


Around The Clock Prompts

by lcdsra



Category: Original Work
Genre: Each chapter has it's own warnings, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 23,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdsra/pseuds/lcdsra
Summary: 24 short stories based on times of day. Not beta read and all works are completely fictional. Warnings are in each chapter, please proceed with caution.
Relationships: various original characters - Relationship
Kudos: 2





	1. Prompts

00:00 - beginning

01:00 - prehistoric

02:00 - anniversary

03:00 - generational

04:00 - insomnia

05:00 - contemporary

06:00 - dawn

07:00 - awakened

08:00 - heyday

09:00 - planned

10:00 - wristwatch

11:00 - punctual

12:00 - lunchtime

13:00 - instantaneous

14:00 - season

15:00 - unpredictable

16:00 - evolution

17:00 - finite

18:00 - afterlife

19:00 - outdated

20:00 - twilight

21:00 - mourned

22:00 - heartbeat

23:00 - endless


	2. 00:00 - Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katasha comes to term with her friend's death, and the potential beginnings of a new relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Katasha, Celeste  
> Relationship(s): Celeste & Katasha, Katasha & Setsuko mention  
> Warning(s): Past character death

_Something was missing. The room was vast and grand with a clear cut pathway made from furniture to somewhere. Katasha looked around, and despite not recognizing her surroundings, she knew something wasn’t right._

_She walked through the maze carefully, and it felt natural. Like she could do it blindfolded. But she stepped to the right where there should have been a door and instead found a wall. She touched it lightly, but there was nothing. The wall had deep imprints of the door that should’ve been there, but pushing didn’t do anything._

_Katasha stepped away, suddenly very scared. A jolt of fear electrified her veins, and she moved to turn, but the room changed. The path she took was cluttered, and at the end of the line was a shadow._

_She didn’t want to go near it. But that was her only way out. Her body refused to move forward, and a crash to her left didn’t help. Neither did a steel beam falling towards her impossibly fast allow her to run. She took too long to decide and she sucked in a breath, bracing herself and it-_

Didn’t hit her. Katasha bolted up in bed, a scream building up in her throat. She blinked rapidly against the darkness and took a moment to remember where she was. She rubbed at her eyes to clear her vision. She felt tracks of dried tears.

Reality hit her like the hunk of metal from her dream.

Her best friend, her confidante, Setsuko, was dead. Part of her knew that Setsuko put herself in dangerous situations and didn’t take precautions and didn’t want to change those facts. Of course karma would catch up to her misdeeds.

But at the same time, Setsuko was the charming, sassy woman that liked to play with her hair and dance in her free time.

Now it was just her and Celeste.

Katasha admittedly didn’t know Celeste very well. They lived together, but for the most part, ignored each other unless Setsuko was involved.

Now she was gone permanently and they certainly couldn’t continue their current arrangement.

Katasha hauled herself out of bed. No matter their situation, she wanted to get cleaned up before attempting to sleep again. To get to the bathroom, she would have to pass Celeste and Setsuko’s room.

She stumbled blindly down the hall, and her eyes were drawn immediately to the light under the crack of a door.

That door was to Celeste and Setsuko’s shared room. It wasn’t unusual to see light from under their door at odd times of night. Celeste often fell asleep with the lights on, and Setsuko, who almost exclusively worked at night, would come home and leave them on too.

However, Setsuko wasn’t home and would never be home again and even if Celeste were asleep, Katasha wanted to turn off the light anyway.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and knocked lightly on the door.

She stood in the hallway for a full thirty seconds before Celeste’s soft voice managed to reach her.

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “It’s Katasha. May I come in?”

The words felt stiff in her mouth, and she felt an urge to flee. But at the noise of confirmation, she pushed through the fear and the door.

Celeste was on the floor at a dresser. The dresser had trinkets on it, and Katasha immediately recognized a few.

There was a figurine of a Vocaloid, pink edition. There was a Statue of Liberty next to a fog globe of the Golden Gate Bridge, and a small phone box, functioning as a piggy bank.

“What are you doing up?” Celeste asked, breaking the silence. Katasha blinked and glanced away from the trinkets.

“Sorry, what?”

“What’re you doing up?” She repeated.

Katasha had heard her the first time, but it always took a second to process people’s words. Setsuko was patient with her and spoke slowly enough to follow, but not too slow to make her feel patronized. Celeste never got that.

“A dream,” Katasha replied. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

Celeste looked back at the trinkets. “I can’t seem to. Figured I should do something about this room, but…”

Katasha understood. “It’s hard.” She replied. She sat down slowly next to her, leaning against a wall. “I miss her.” She offered.

Celeste let out a small huff, which could have either been a laugh or a sob. “I don’t think I can go on.”

“We have to,” Katasha said without thinking.

The other woman frowned slightly at her.

“We don’t have to live for ourselves, but for her,” Katasha explained. “At least, that’s how I think of it.”

Celeste was silent for a long time. Katasha had almost fallen asleep when she spoke up again. “You’ve lost people before.”

Yes, was the answer. One set of grandparents were, by all means, quite young when they died. She was close to them both and was devastated. But her grandmother had always taught her how to move forward. Many of the words she spoke now were from her.

“Yes.” She finally replied. “I know we didn’t talk a lot before, but I don’t want to lose you too.” She felt it was best to be honest. A relationship of any kind had to come from that.

Celeste sat, staring at her for a few moments. Katasha wasn’t sure if she had pushed too much, or said the wrong thing, until the other woman smile a little. “I appreciate it. If anything, I’m willing to work with you and see where it goes.”

It was better than nothing. It would be uncomfortable, sure, but one has to start somewhere.


	3. 01:00 - Prehistoric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 logs on test subject CrM-MDu-06. Character study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Unknown narrators, Moon Dust  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): Dehumanization, human experiments, murder mention, implied suicide, Wikipedia science

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 2, March 23 2006, 9:07 pm, PAR-F (Fatma Parra)_

The test subject status is stable. The subject ate approximately 3 hours ago, alone in its cell. The subject is currently asleep.

*pause*

The test subject appears to be seven years of age. Its height is that of an average child, but weight appears to be under the recommended amount.

Medical urge the test subject to be at least 10 pounds within average before proceeding with tests or adjustments.

Scientists say they can proceed now.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 14, April 15 2006, 7:31 am, HUE-R (Roksana Huerta)_

The test subject status is stable. The subject will eat in approximately 30 minutes, with subject MSh. The test subject is currently awake.

*pause*

The test subject has taken kindly to CrM-MSh-04. While the subject has refused to allow scientists close to it, the subject MSh can touch it. They seem to be developing a trust, which can be used to continue the experiments.

*pause*

Scientists are looking into snake venom to begin treatment. There have been recorded cases of creatures surviving doses of venom using the mithridatism method (see log 10). With permission, scientists will begin the procedure.

*pause*

*click* 

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 16, April 20 2006, 12:59 am, TOM-C (Chace Tomlinson)_

Test subject status is inconclusive. The subject had eaten approximately 12 hours ago, alone in its cell. The test subject is currently asleep.

The test subject responded poorly to the procedure. Medical noted that the injection was too high for the subject’s body to fight.

*pause*

However, medical appears hopeful that with lower doses, the subject may develop immunity. With some altercations (see next log), the subjects’ bodies may become optimized for further research and immunity.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 17, April 20 2006, 1:06 am, HUE-R (Roksana Huerta)_

Test subject status is the same as the last log.

Scientists have researched the human body with other test subjects.

The human body has a natural tolerance to cyanide through almonds, apple seeds, and the like. In response to the deadly toxin, the liver releases the enzyme rhodanese that converts it into thiocyanate, which expels through urinating.

If scientists can speed up the release of that enzyme in response to large doses of cyanide, the human body may have a chance at surviving potential poisonings.

A subspecies of humans have developed a genetic immunity to arsenic from drinking arsenic-laced water for centuries. The gene is AS3MT and flushes the toxin out faster. However, it is possible to inject a binding element to mask its toxicity.

There appears to be no record of either of these processes being successful. If subject MDu is to be invested in, it would be advised to test these procedures on other subjects first.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 20, May 30 2006, 3:43 am, TOM-C (Chace Tomlinson)_

The test subject status is stable. The subject had eaten approximately 52 hours ago, alone in its cell. The test subject is currently asleep.

*pause*

The test subject has been operated on successfully and will begin undergoing the cyanide procedure. Subject MSh will be paired with the subject and begin working with it, as per CrM’s orders.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 44, August 21 2006, 11:57 pm, TOM-C (Chace Tomlinson)_

The test subject status is stable. The subject ate 78 hours ago, alone in its cell. The test subject is currently asleep.

Scientists have stated the test subject does not have to eat to gain its vitamins, but it is losing weight rapidly. Though currently stable, we are unwilling to perform further tests until the subject puts on more weight.

*pause*

We understand that the subject will be going on its first objective that requires alcohol consumption, but the subject will need a procedure to prevent an overdose.

The test subject’s enzymes must be sped up, though we have seen a successful version of this from the cyanide procedure. It is likely the subject will respond positively and perform its objective when the time comes.

*pause*

For now, it needs to eat proper food.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 50, September 5 2006, 6:23 am, PAR-F (Fatma Parra)_

*pause*

The test subject is stable. It ate around 12 hours ago and will eat in about 2 hours, both with MSh. The test subject is currently asleep.

*shuffling*

The subject is ready to go on its objective. It should be noted that the subject had mentioned the 4th was its birthday.

*pause*

God, are you sure this is *unintelligible*

*pause*

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 51, September 10 2006, 9:42 pm, PAR-F (Fatma Parra)_

The test subject status is stable. The subject’s last known meal was 132 hours ago, though it is suspected the subject ate while on its mission. The test subject is currently awake.

The subject was successful in its mission objective. Chantelle Schmitt was reported dead approximately 12 hours ago from an accidental overdose.

*pause*

Subject MSh has seemed to be emotionally closer to the subject ever since they came back. Though subject MSh is approximately 12 years older, the subjects have created a bond. Their relationship should be observed before sending the subjects on the same mission.

*pause*

Development is looking into emotional suppressants for both subjects, per CrM’s request. They are hopeful in engineering a drug similar to drugs available for mainstream consumers. The emotional toll on both subjects will likely be enormous.

*pause*

But that’s what you want, isn’t it?

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 167, January 29 2008, 9:42 pm, TOM-C (Chace Tomlinson)_

The test subject’s status is stable. The subject ate around 3 hours ago. The test subject is currently awake.

*pause*

The current injections in the subject are the mood stabilizer, immune system booster, and the vitamin additive.

The mood stabilizer is working incredibly well. The subject has not asked for things or expressed sadness or joy. The injection doesn’t have the same effect in subject MSh, though the subject had expressed fewer emotions than the subject MDu before the stabilizer.

*pause*

The immune system booster appears to be working as expected. The subject has not experienced sickness since its addition. Subject MSh does not come into contact with as many people and has a natural immunity to many common issues that MDu had come down with.

*pause*

The vitamin injections have worked, but the subject has been losing weight rapidly. The subject also collapsed during one of its missions and seemed to be losing its muscle build. Development and medical are working on another injection to combat this issue.

*pause*

There is an experimental injection being worked on too. The subject has retained many injuries that have kept it down for a few missions. However, with this injection, those injuries may heal faster. Subject MSh might benefit from this injection as well.

*pause*

Subject MSh has an injection (see CrM-MSh-04, log 256) that subject MDu will most likely receive later. The subject’s age is currently nine, and its biological function has yet to change.

*pause*

The impact of these injections will most likely be significant. The mood stabilizer will most likely need to be increased in the future, though it currently works perfectly.

*pause*

*click*

: : :

_Test Subject CrM-MDu-06, log 356, December 24 2012, 1:00 am, PAR-F (Fatma Parra)_

*pause*

Test subject status is stable. The subject has eaten and is asleep.

*pause*

The test subject has become resistant to its orders. CrM has hoped to include.

*shuffling*

Something called verbal triggers. CrM wants the subject to forget, freeze, and murder. Two types of kill, one, just the person in front of the subject and the other, everyone around her. It, sorry.

*pause*

I will not be a part of this, reprogramming. I did not sign up for this.

This is Fatma Parra, signing off for good.

*pause*

*bang*

*pause*

*pause*

*click*


	4. 02:00 - Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie muses on her relationship with her friend, Calypso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Angie, Calypso  
> Relationship(s): Angie & Calypso, Calypso/Sylvia implied   
> Warning(s): Violence mention, depression mention, homophobia mention, internalized homophobia mention

Angie could never say that she felt like today was special. She had the date (June 30th) marked on ever year, yet it wasn’t for anything official.

She didn’t meet a partner that day, no kid had a birthday, no, it was when she met Calypso.

Calypso was a dear friend who shared so much trauma with her. They had seen horrors and came home scarred, in more ways than one.

Calypso wheeled into her life and dragged her out of that destructive mindset she carried home from Iraq.

June 30th was when it all changed, thanks to Calypso, thought Angie suspected the other woman didn’t know the significance of the date.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Calypso’s voice snapped Angie out of her thoughts.

She shrugged, taking another bite of noodles. “Nothing.”

Calypso looked skeptical, but shrugged and continued eating. They weren’t anywhere special, just Angie’s house eating takeout food because it was more convenient for her friend.

“Are you sure?” Calypso prodded. “I swear you always get so,” She waved her arm vaguely, fork shining in the light. “Distracted.”

Angie quirked a brow. “Distracted?”

“You’re less attentive.” At Angie’s look of bewilderment, Calypso tried again. “Like, today someone stood in my space but instead of pushing them away like you do, you didn’t do anything.”

“Should I have?” Angie wasn’t always sure about their relationship, despite the date. “Sylvia’s been saying I shouldn’t be as pushy.”

Calypso shoved a bite of food in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I’ve just noticed it. Not just today either. Always at the end of June.”

Angie hummed in a noncommittal way and continued eating.

They fell silent for awhile. She was digging through the paper bag for more sauce packets when Calypso said, “Is it a special day?”

She paused. “Special how?”

“Did something significant happen between us? Did we meet today or something?”

Angie blinked and glanced at her. Calypso smiled disarmingly. “Yes, actually.”

Her smiled widened. “I knew it. I was thinking back to all the other June’s we’ve known each other and I kept landing on a dinner date like this.” She gestured to the plastic containers.

Angie shrugged back. “I like to think of it as a thank you, of sorts.”

Calypso tilted her head curiously. “For what?”

Angie sat back in her chair, food forgotten. “Do you remember when you met me?” Calypso nodded. “I was very... depressed and angry before then. I was bitter that I was shot instead of Fee, that he managed to survive without a scratch, even though he’s a moron and incompetent.”

This Calypso knew. She often complained about Fee, or Frances, and how even though he was a decorated war hero, he was skittish and cowardly in combat.

“Then you, who shouldn’t have seen combat at all, came into my life and that changed everything.” Angie finished after realizing she had paused in her narration.

Her friend tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully. “I never knew that.” She confessed. “But I’m glad you told me. I hope you’re doing better now.”

“I am.” She was. “There are bad days, but nowhere near as dangerous.”

Calypso nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good.”

They resumed eating in silence. It wasn’t tense, thank God, but it wasn’t exactly relaxed. Now Calypso seemed thoughtful and distracted, thought she suspected it was about her own military days.

“It wasn’t combat.”

Angie glanced up. “What?”

“I didn’t get hurt in combat.” Calypso repeated. “It was an IED, I was being transported with a few other coworkers, and, well, I’m sure you know what happened next.”

Angie suspected as much. She hadn’t heard of these ‘coworkers’ from Calypso, and military buddies were typically fairly close, so it was likely they died.

“I was incredibly lucky, but believe me, I didn’t feel like it.” Calypso said grimly. “For awhile I had wanted to end things. It seemed so much easier once I was in the chair.”

“How’d you get past it?” Angie asked, hushed.

“I did a ton of research on possibly walking again.” She said. “I threw myself into working, because it was better than believing in nothing. And,” She smiled slightly. “I met a pretty great therapist.”

Sylvia, was who Angie guessed there. Sylvia did both group therapy and individual therapy. Calypso had been doing individual for some time before Angie was scheduled to do group therapy by her doctor. Since the group was specifically for military vets discharged, honorably or no, Calypso joined up as well.

Angie watched as Calypso continued to speak. Her brain didn’t catch the words as readily anymore, because she knew what was coming next.

A barrage of almost childlike wonderment about Sylvia.

It wasn’t really a secret between them that Calypso wasn’t exactly straight.

She hid her identity well, they were both old enough to have experienced don’t ask, don’t tell during their respective tours.

But Calypso was rather helpless when it came to pretty girls, something that made Angie frustrated.

She wasn’t sure where that frustration came from, because she herself found that her eyes lingers more on the girls than the boys.

But there was always guilt and shame that stopped her from acting on those thoughts. Her mother’s hushed words about an uncle who had eyes for both men and women, about how he we dirty and wrong echoed in her mind. Her father’s scowl at the parades during Pride month flashing in front of her eyes when a girl smiled at her.

It was something that she wanted to work on, but life was complicated and she was so busy that there was never time.

Only time for work, entertainment, and Calypso.


	5. 03:00 - Generational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of friends create a legend that gets passed down through the generations. Harry Potter AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Rune, Varina, Rain, Aiko, Ezra, Kirin, Blaise, Jade, Clair, Calypso, Kadence, Reo  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): None

“So, I wanna do a thing.” Rune started, leaning against the library table dramatically.

Varina noticeably perked up. “Oh, and what might this ‘thing’ be?” The Gryffindor asked, curious.

“Don’t encourage them.” Rain muttered, not looking up from his book. “Remember the last thing you guys wanted to do?”

Rune huffed. “This is different.”

“It’s probably not, but talk anyway.” Aiko replied. The Ravenclaw was always picking up the pieces of their little friend group after another one of Rune’s crazy plans.

“I want to create a legend. Like, if you bring four students from the different houses, something will happen.” Rune explained, stars in their eyes.

Rain looked up. “Do you have something in mind?” The Hufflepuff was always the most resourceful of the four of them. It was likely he’d have to place whatever myth preplanned.

“If four students from different houses go to the lake at 3 in the morning, exactly, a kelpie will appear.” Rune rattled off. “If you get it wrong, you could _die_.”

“That is so stupid.” Aiko replied flatly.

“How will we convince a kelpie to come out?” Varina asked at the same time.

Rune paused and deflated a little. “It’s not very thought out. I mostly just wanna go to the lake at night.”

Varina tilted her head. “During the full moon, those Marauders are always out and about. I see them leave the dorm.”

“Does anyone suspect them?” Rain asked. “We could easily tip someone off to get the staff’s attention to them.”

“There’s no guarantee that staff will even be patrolling there.” Aiko pointed out. “We might just attract unwanted attention.”

The group fell silent, absorbing the information dump. Finally, Rune interrupted the silence. “Does anyone know how to make themselves invisible?”

: : :

20 years later

Ezra couldn’t explain how he managed to get himself into this situation. Blaise did the research, Kirin provided the resources, and Jade was their distraction, but really, he did nothing.

Except come along on this crazy plan. The four were under a few bushes, waiting intently for the full moon to rise over the lake.

According to Blaise’s research, some students encountered a banshee on the lake on a full moon night. Other students had attempted to repeat it in the past but failed.

They needed one person from each house to trigger the response. Logically, it made no sense to Ezra, but he was outnumbered, and no other Hufflepuff would join the three other idiots on their adventure.

“You’re thinking too loudly.” Kirin muttered in his ear. “Just go along with this.”

“Unlike you, apparently, I’m not keen on encountering a banshee.” He hissed.

Jade glanced back at them and gestured for them to follow. Blaise stumbled out first, the Ravenclaw eager to see his research in real life.

Kirin followed a lot more stealthily, the Slytherin living up to her snake logo. Ezra followed somewhat reluctantly.

“This is so stupid.”

Blaise glanced back at him and Kirin. “Don’t chicken out now, please?”

“Jade’s the Gryffindor, not me.” He muttered. Nevertheless, he slipped out the castle doors and followed the other three toward the lake.

: : :

20 years later

Clair led the way to the lake. Her face showed no sense of fear, with her shoulders pulled back. Calypso always admired how brave Clair was, how eager she was to jump on board to see the Dementor on the lake.

Even if Calypso found the information, she did not necessarily want to do the deed. Only after Kadence figured out how to do it, the Slytherin was always very resourceful, was she convinced to go along.

Her job was to convince Reo, a Ravenclaw in her year, to come with them. He was reluctant, even more so because it involved breaking several established rules, but eventually, she persuaded him.

The lake was in their sights, the full moon beautiful over the still water.

The four stood at its shore and breathed in the night air. It was astoundingly late, 3 in the morning, and they were easy prey for anything the forest wanted to throw at them.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, is it.” Reo sighed out next to her.

Calypso shrugged. “It was called a myth for a reason, I guess.”

Clair’s mouth twisted into a smile. “It was the process of getting out here that was the adventure.”

“An adventure that cost me several hours of my free time.” Kadence huffed out. “You guys don’t even know how much effort went into finding that invisibility cloak.”

“I’m guessing it involved bribing a certain Chosen One’s kid?” Calypso guessed.

The answer went unsaid as the cloak clutched in Clair’s hands. Since she was in the same house as two of them, it was her job to return it later.


	6. 04:00 - Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Rhea, Skathi  
> Relationship(s): Rhea/Skathi  
> Warning(s): None

Rhea used to lay awake at night because she didn’t want to sleep.

When she was a teen, she’d often get nightmares. They plagued her sleep, so she avoided it as much as she could.

But now, she laid awake at 4:00 am because she couldn’t sleep. But things were different from before. The nightmares turned into only temporary problems, her friend, Cressida, was no longer in her life but in stepped Skathi to fill that void.

Not like Skathi was a replacement, they both occupied a space in her heart, but Skathi was so much more.

They started as friends, as many couples do and stayed together until they graduated high school. Then, they were roommates in college and now coworkers (sort of) in the same corporation.

Thankfully their corporation didn’t have stipulations about their respective identities, so much so that the request to share a room went unquestioned.

So here they both laid. It was too hot to cuddle, even with the fan on full blast, but Skathi was breathing deeply, rhythmically, and Rhea was awake staring at the ceiling.

She didn’t mind. Looking at Skathi was a gift in and of itself, and she was happy to guard her as she slept.

Skathi worked in finances, and she as a pilot, so their jobs rarely intersected. Sometimes she would be gone on long flights, or Skathi would work late. Sleeping together in the same bed was a blessing.

Rhea sighed out loud and rolled out of bed. She threw on a piece of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor and left their bedroom.

She entered the living room and went to the kitchenette. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open, taking a sip.

Rhea wandered to the window and glanced outside.

They were in Skathi’s room tonight, so the view was not quite as familiar. Rhea itched for the smooth controls of her plane, but her next flight wasn’t until the weekend. She wondered if she developed the inability to sleep while she flew.

Flying was almost like driving, in that she had to be aware, of course, but eventually, it became second nature. Her sleep schedule adapted to be as unpredictable as her flight schedule.

Maybe. Rhea took another sip of water and stared out the window. The campus was large, and there was another building nearby, which housed the admin of finances.

Rhea personally knew Miss Rivera, had flown her to various places over the years. Rivera was kind but energetic. She had a feeling the other woman knew a lot more than she let on. She was flying her later this month for a meeting out of the country.

She didn’t know Rivera’s boss very well. She knew his title was Commander Leo, and his first name was Blaise, but that was about it. He was a private man and worked only with the other members of the same level.

Rune Björk was everyone’s boss in finances. She had met Björk during her initiation into STARS, only briefly, but everyone knew their name. Skathi said that those even higher up than Björk wanted them to become the next CEO.

Well, ‘CEO’ wasn’t precisely the correct term, but Björk was training for something different than any of them knew.

“What’re you doing up?”

Rhea whirled around. “Skathi, did I wake you?”

The other woman looked exhausted as she trudged out of their room, but smiled nonetheless. “No, I was cold.”

She quirked a brow. “Cold?”

Skathi frowned playfully at her. “Don’t question it. What’re you thinking so deeply about?”

“Your bosses.” Rhea replied honestly. “I’m flying one of them later this month.”

Skathi hummed quietly. “She likes you, I think.”

That was surprising. “Really? I don’t know her well.”

“Well,” She shrugged. “Rivera requested you.”

Rhea smiled lazily. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You should.” Skathi assured her. “I’ve heard your flights are some of the best.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I doubt that. I’m sure Kiyan is better, he is my boss.”

“Your boss who promoted you immediately to a named position.” Skathi reminded her. She draped her arms around Rhea’s shoulders. “Don’t take that lightly.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I won’t. Thank you.”

Skathi kissed her lightly. “Hmmm, of course. Come back to bed.”

Maybe sleeplessness wasn’t all bad, she mused, as they tumbled back into bed.


	7. 05:00 - Contemporary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten characters swear that they've seen each other before. Platonic soulmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Skylar, Amber  
> Relationship(s): Amber & Skylar  
> Warning(s): Blood, illness

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

Amber grinned in response. She had the same feeling when she had first met Skylar, though admittedly she had other, less positive ones too. “I know, me too.”

Skylar across from her was beautiful. Her hair was blonde and long, with bright blue eyes. It was clear, even in the very early morning light, that she was a poster child for American beauty.

Yet it was never her look that was familiar. “It’s like from a different time.”

She raised a brow, “Don’t tell me you believe in past lives.”

“Certainly not.” Skylar sipped her drink. “It’s difficult to explain.”

: : : 

“Do I know you from somewhere, Miku-Chan?” Hotaru asked quietly.

It was very early morning, and though they only had to get up at 6 in the morning, it was easily 5 or earlier. The girls weren’t in their normal city lives, but in a rural town on the outskirts of Nagasaki.

“I don’t know.” Miku replied just as softly. “I had seen you from school, but nowhere else. Why?”

Hotaru shrugged. “It’s a feeling I have.”

They stared as the first rays of run peaked over the horizons. Miku sighed to herself. Hotaru knew that she was thinking of home.

: : :

“I swear, Lady Hélèn, I have met you before.” Lady Ciel mused to her.

Hélèn had to agree. Though they had only met through chance during a party, she felt an instant connection. “Certainly, Lady Ciel.”

They sipped their tea and Hélèn took a moment to regard the Chateau’s garden. There were lanterns illuminating the grounds in the early morning, creating an ethereal glow.

It was vast and magnificent and quite unlike her own.

“What are you looking at?” Lady Ciel questioned.

“I’m thinking about the Revolution.” She replied without looking up. “Against the King of England, how arrogant of the colonies to fight against the monarchy.”

Lady Ciel watched her for a few moments. “You think the ideas may spread to France.”

“It’s certainly a possibility.”

: : :

Fiametta watched Azzurra with curiosity. She swore the other woman was familiar, but she was the wife of a traveling merchant, so surely not.

Their husbands talked business, prosperity, a possible deal to allow both for them to flourish under the recent rise of the Renaissance. This allowed them a sliver of freedom to talk. “Azzurra, are you sure we have not met before?”

The other woman glanced at her nervously. “I do not believe so, Fiametta. I am unfamiliar with this town.”

She bowed her head slightly in an apology. “I am sorry, I do not know what came over me.”

Azzurra smiled a little. It was awfully beautiful. “No, do not apologize. I too have felt like I have known you for quite some time.”

: : :

There was little they could do to stop the Plague. That she knew, but despite that, she stumbled to the town’s doctor in the early mornings racked with coughs and boils.

Ellen was unfamiliar with the ways of medics, but something about Azure was familiar.

Ancient, almost. She didn’t have much time to dwell on those thoughts as another cough racked her body.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Azure cooed. She applied a cool clothe to her forehead as she spoke.

Her coughs petered out and she grimaced at the blood. “It’s a shame, really.” She muttered.

Azure cocked her head to the side, curious. “What is?”

Ellen felt another cough clawing at her throat. “I want to get to know you better.”

The other woman’s face fell a little. “Me too, Ellen. I wish to have known you for longer.”

: : :

Skylar tossed her cup at a trash can as they walked out of the Starbucks. The plastic cup missed, falling short against the can.

“Dammit.” She muttered, picking it up and properly discarding it.

Amber raised a brow, “It would have been easier to have just done that before.” She pointed out.

Skylar flicked her wrist in a meaningless way. “It would’ve been even faster had I made it.”

She rolled her eyes, “That’s the Skylar I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First is modern day America (Skylar and Amber), second is WWII Japan (Miku and Hotaru), third is American revolutionary France (Ciel and Hélèn), fourth is Renaissance Italy (Azzurra and Fiametta) and fifth is Black Death England (Azure and Ellen).


	8. 06:00 - Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie wakes up at dawn. Texting fic, somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Angie, Calypso in spirit  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): Violence mention

Angie woke with a start. Despite the rush of fear in her veins, she didn’t remember dreaming that night.

One glance at her watch told her it was 6:00 am, pretty good for her. She sat up slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness in her room.

Feeble rays of sunlight crept over the horizons and under her window shades, and she watched with mild fascination as the light illuminated more of her floor.

The military cleanliness hadn’t left her when she returned home, so her hardwood floors were spotless. She wondered, briefly, if Calypso managed to get any sleep that night.

Calypso, in her experience, stayed up til ludicrous hours of the night, like if no one told her to sleep, she wouldn’t. Some of it was her work, she was very dedicated to her job as an engineer, and some of it were the dreams.

They both had them, were both seeing the same therapist for them. Angie wasn’t sure what she’d do if she didn’t have a friend who struggled with the same thing.

Civilians didn’t always understand, which was to be expected, but connecting with them was hard. They just didn’t see their friends, their siblings in arms, get shot in front of them. They didn’t always experience the same guilt.

Angie shook her head and pushed herself out of bed. She stretched briefly and picked up her phone to check the news.

A few notifications from apps popped up, but only one caught her attention.

Calypso Emory, 5:31AM: Are you awake?

She frowned and typed out a reply.

Me, 6:03AM: I am now. Please tell me you slept.

The response bubble immediately popped up. That wasn’t a good sign.

Calypso Emory, 6:03AM: Yes.

Me, 6:03AM: Are you just saying that so I’ll stop asking?

Calypso Emory, 6:04AM: …yes

Angie rolled her eyes.

Me, 6:04AM: What did you need?

Calypso Emory, 6:04AM: I wanted to talk to someone. Did you watch the sunrise?

Me, 6:05AM: Somewhat.

Calypso Emory, 6:05AM: It made me think of that morning.

Angie didn’t need to ask which. The one where she woke up, with her friends around her dead and her crushed under the weight of a truck.

Me, 6:06AM: Do you want some company?

Calypso took a little bit of time to reply, so Angie got changed into jeans and a sweater, and brushed her teeth.

Calypso Emory, 6:15AM: If you wouldn’t mind. I’d hate to drag you out of your house.

She spat out the toothpaste and typed with one hand.

Me, 6:16AM: It’s no big deal. Did you eat?

Calypso Emory, 6:17AM: I ate a granola bar.

Angie washed her hands and face, reaching for her wallet.

Me, 6:18AM: Was it a bad night?

Calypso Emory, 6:18AM: Not necessarily. I guess I’m just not feeling hungry.

Me, 6:18AM: I’m on my way.

She tossed her phone into her bag, her keys dangling from her jaw as she worked to unlock the door. She had several locks that she secured during the night, most of which took some effort to open.

Call Angie paranoid, but they made her feel safer.

Finally, she got into her car and started the engine. Calypso hadn’t replied. Angie would pick up some extra food on the way, just in case her friend felt hungry, but she wouldn’t force it. God knew how many mornings she woke up only to not eat for the entire day. Sometimes the nightmares sucked out her appetite.

She glanced up at the sky as she drove. Streaks of bright orange and vivid pink chased the dark blue away. New York was beautiful, in its own, urban way. The traffic early in the morning wasn’t as bad as it got during rush hour.

Angie was glad to be back.


	9. 07:00 - Awakened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon Dust (test subject MDu) is on the hunt. Please pay attention to the warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Moon Dust, Robert Comtois  
> Relationship(s): Onesided Moon Dust/Robert Comtois  
> Warning(s): Manipulation, alcohol, murder mention, medical procedures mention, sexual assault mention

Moon Dust wondered if the man next to her, the one she was draped over and the one she was soon to kill, knew that that was her first kiss.

It was such a small question that she didn’t even think about until after their lips parted. Her first kiss. So emotionless. They were strangers, she was his pre-bought arm candy, and he was a wealthy businessman who MOON wanted dead.

But Dust kept a straight face and laughed along with the conversation. Her name tonight was Amélie, French, soft in the mouth. She had learned to purr it, against her handler’s ear, against Moon Shard’s ear, and now against his, Robert Comtois.

“And a drink for my girl.” Comtois gestured to her.

She grinned and looked at the bartender. “A gin and tonic, darling.”

Comtois tightened his hold on her possessively, and she struggled to keep a smile on her face. She was supposed to be flirty. What did he expect?

The bartender handed him Amélie’s drink. She didn’t pay it any mind, only took a polite sip and smiled all pretty at him.

She did not like gin and tonic. She didn’t have a taste for alcohol at all, but it was part of her training.

Amélie, as Moon Dust, had to drink a variety of alcohol to prepare for such missions. She hadn’t experienced even a little of the symptoms most people had afterward, and the scientists who were observing her declared their operation a success.

She didn’t know the majority of the facts of her adjustments, but she did know that they made her body produce more enzymes to metabolize alcohol and other substances faster.

The result was that she couldn’t get drunk, and by the time she felt any of the effects, her body would most likely shut down.

She couldn’t get drunk but still had to deal with all the intoxicated men and women around her. She had to wait until Comtois was separated from his friends, long enough for them not to question his disappearance for a couple of hours.

Once he was alone, she was to administer a high dose of insulin to instigate hypoglycemia shock.

Comtois had diabetes, and though she could have easily spiked his drink and left him to die, MOON wanted something more subtle. Most likely because Moon Shard was making an appearance elsewhere, and they didn’t want the world to know about their duo yet.

The night dragged on. Though the room was big and lavish with many guests, Amélie encouraged him towards the bar often. She gave him many more kisses that night, and she could taste every drink he had on his lips.

Moon Dust was tired, though. She didn’t drink everything put in front of her, but she counted them and tossed them out.

But she was tired of being in his presence. He leered at other women, touched them under the table, and made snide comments to his friends. Moon Dust was young and inexperienced, but she still knew it was wrong.

It took a long time. It was well past 3 AM when he finally slurred his words enough that even his friends suggested he rest. At that point, she had disappeared, only to reappear at his side to remind him that she was still there.

His eyes were hungry when they raked over her body as if he hadn’t fondled her throughout the night.

Amélie smiled like she wanted to be fucked, but Moon Dust wasn’t about to give him another of her firsts.


	10. 08:00 - Heyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks Loki and Marina are dating. Superhero verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Marina, Loki, Skylar, Setsuko, Calypso, Celeste, Phoenix, London, Pluto  
> Relationship(s): Eventual Loki/Marina  
> Warning(s): Mild gore/injury

Skylar was the first to ask her about Loki.

Skylar had come to her with horrific burns that crawled up her leg and plastered her stomach like a branding. She stumbled into her apartment at 8:00 pm sharp, gasping in pain.

“God, Skylar, did you encounter Inferno?”

Skylar didn’t reply immediately, merely panted in pain as she removed her shirt for Marina. “Yeah, I think that smoke manipulator was there too.” The other woman hissed when Marina placed her hands near the burn. “You’re with him, right?”

Marina sputtered. “What?!”

Skylar laughed, though stopped immediately, wincing. “Yeah, I always see you two together, but I guess not.”

“I hate him, he hates me.” Marina replied, rolling her eyes. “Now hold still so I can heal you.”

: : :

Setsuko was the first to say anything to Loki, in regards to Marina. Which shouldn’t surprise him at that point, the silver-haired woman was a mind reader.

In the middle of a jailbreak, the twins wreaked havoc while Setsuko worked on making an opening.

An all too familiar shadow of The Heron flew above them, and Loki ducked behind a wall to avoid contact.

“Smoke man, I need cover!” Setsuko, as Clairvoyant, shouted.

“It’s coming!” He snarled back.

A stray fireball blazed past him, grazing The Heron.

The woman cursed, landing not too far away. A familiar head of red hair snuck past the chaos, fixing The Heron right up.

“Deal with your girlfriend, please.” Setsuko snarked into the earpiece. “Get the healer off the field.”

“She’s not my-“ but the supervillain had already bounded forward and dealt with a lock.

Loki frowned and huffed but did as he was told, throwing a warning near where the healer last was.

: : :

Calypso mentioned Loki to Marina next. “I think your boyfriend could be swayed.”

Marina frowned. The other woman was the newest revealed part of their team, and though in a wheelchair, incredibly powerful. “Who?”

The woman frowned back. “Loki? The smoke manipulator.”

“Who told you that,” Marina flushed.

The other woman was barely older than her but regarded her with a stare to rival all critical mothers. “Skylar, but I take it you’re not actually together.”

“No.” She willed the blush on her face to recede. “I hate him.”

The Necromancer smiled knowingly. “Affections can stem from the most unexpected of places.“

: : :

“How’s your girlfriend?” Pluto asked him one day, while they were planning their next move. “Surely you could convince her to, ya know, heal us?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Loki insisted, not even looking at him. “Why does everyone think that?”

Pluto tilted his head. “I mean, Setsuko can read minds and she says you’re together, so,” He trailed off, raising a brow.

“She’s joking.” Loki insisted. The worst part about working with a mind reader was trying to keep his mind protected.

But Setsuko was experienced and though younger than him, far stronger than he could ever imagine.

: : :

They allied. Marina wasn’t even sure how, but Skylar, Celeste, and Calypso allied with Clairvoyant, the Twins, Dynamo, and Loki.

“Now this is an interesting alliance.” Calypso commented. She didn’t even have a costume, much less a way to disguise her chair.

Celeste next to her shifted. Her mask spoke true to her pseudonym as the Heron. “Is this our first alliance?”

Clairvoyant’s eyes shifted to Loki, and Marina could feel Skylar’s grin at her back. “Maybe not the first.” Skylar said casually.

The Twins glanced at each other. “What are they talking about?” Inferno asked Clairvoyant. Their voice was unsure and hesitant but held a childish curiosity.

Clairvoyant grinned, her teeth glittering in the dying light. “Loki and Marina. Marina and Loki. They might have been fooling around on the side.”

Marina blushed furiously while Loki looked away. “We’re not together.” They both denied.

“Double negative, so a yes?” Pluto asked slyly. Loki punched him in the shoulder.

Marina was about to say something when an explosion brought all of their attention to the distance.

“Looks like the robots are on the move.” Calypso commented. “I’ve got to get into position.”

Skylar nodded to her, and she wheeled off. Clairvoyant’s eyes followed the woman as she left, but didn’t comment.

Marina wasn’t a fighter, but somehow got wrapped up in this crazy alliance between humans, against a rogue AI.

It was almost like an action movie.

: : :

Everyone survived because, of course they did. Loki helped provide whatever misdirection he could against the robots, and continuously, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Marina work her medical magic.

She closed a gaping wound from one of the robot’s well-timed shots at The Heron, provided time for Alto to fix her sprained wrist, not to mention assisting Setsuko with a scrap she got after being shoved away.

The Twins were the heroes of the day, being able to short circuit the robot’s wiring and burning the remnants, respectively.

The aftermath of the battle was several buildings reduced to rubble, but a cheering public and for once, Loki felt a little bit of pride.

After, Loki found Marina helping out Pluto with an injury. He waited patiently until she finished up, before asking, “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

The woman looked at him, cautiously. “Something about this change your mind?”

He shrugged. “I’m getting tired of this whole super powers thing. I don’t know if I can keep up with those youngsters.” As if on cue, The Heron landed on the ground, hard. The ensuing shockwave tipped Setsuko over, into one of the Twins, who naturally shrieked.

“Me too, actually.” Marina said, her eyes trained on the chaos beginning to unfold. “I’m tired of patching up everyone.”

He dared to smile. “Is that a yes?”

She looked over at him, then smiled. “It is.”


	11. 09:00 - Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuit talks to Trudy on a rare off day. It doesn't go exactly as planned. Please check the warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Nuit, Trudy  
> Relationship(s): Past Trudy/Veda  
> Warning(s): Underage mention, alcohol consumption

Nuit sighed as she stepped out of the shower. She had the whole day free, and planned to use it as effectively as possible. So much so that she got up with the sun to check in on her games before anything else.

By the time she was done changing and drying her hair, it was around 9:00 am. She guessed that most Air agents were already at their stations, and ones with overnight shifts were getting back and falling asleep.

What she didn’t anticipate was to find a woman drinking at the minibar.

“Taking up day drinking?” She called out as a greeting.

The other woman turned to her, bottle in hand. “Who are you?” She asked. Her speech wasn’t horrifically slurred, but if the empty bottle behind her was anything to go by, she was already intoxicated.

“Nuit Beaumont.” She introduced herself. “Elemental Air field agent.”

The woman raised the bottle in a mock salute. “Hello Night Beautiful Mountain.” Nuit raised a brow at that. “I’m Trudy Luelle, Elemental Air planner.”

The name was familiar, and paired with her job, Nuit knew who she was. She approached slowly and sat down on one of the stools. “What’s with the wine?”

“Would you like a glass?” Trudy was already reaching for one.

“No, no it’s okay.” Nuit assured her. “Are you okay?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Trudy muttered. “Does day drinking look okay?”

She was silent. “Well,” She started after a moment, “I’m sure you’re off duty I guess.”

Trudy took a sip. “Yep.” She popped the ‘p’. ”Was up all night being sad.”

“Cheers to that.” Nuit replied, raising an imaginary glass. “Anything I can do?”

“Do you know Basu?”

She nodded. “Veda, Elemental something or other.”

“God, she’s beautiful.” She moaned out. “Said we can’t be together.”

Nuit’s jaw dropped a little. “I’m sorry, that must suck.” She empathized with Trudy for a brief second. She too was enamored with the older woman, but had been repeatedly shot down. Basu had always said it was their age difference, which, fair, but Trudy couldn’t have been much older than her.

“How long were you together?” She asked gently.

“Years, like, three years before I was signed we got together.” Trudy’s words were slurring more.

That was questionable. She didn’t understand what Trudy meant by ‘signed’ but figured asking now wouldn’t get her a clear answer. “How long ago was that?” Nuit wanted numbers.

“Ehh, seven years?”

“How old are you now?”

Trudy mock frowned at her but clearly didn’t mean it. Or was too drunk to mean it. “It’s impolite to ask a lady her age.” She took a drink of wine. “You know what? Fuck it. We got together when I was 17.”

Nuit flinched. That was illegal, what the fuck? She suddenly really didn’t want to be sitting with Trudy here, talking about Veda.

She was already pulling herself backwards before she said, “I’ve got to go.”

The other woman merely took a long drag of alcohol. “K.” She slurred.

Nuit fled from the common room. God that was messed up, but Veda was still Veda. She was still the woman who comforted her during a panic attack, who inspired her to work harder, and to survive during a mission.

But still, if what Trudy was saying was true, then Veda must be a bad person, right?

Nuit truly felt way in over her head at this revelation. And, even more so, she felt deeply and thoroughly disappointed.


	12. 10:00 - Wristwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clair finds herself in a time loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Clair, Kirin, Angela, Rain  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): Violence, suicide

Clair knew that what she was seeing was a dream. A shape, barely human, looming over her. She did not feel anything as she stared up at the figure. A glint of light in the shape’s hand made it clear what it wanted to do, yet the fear she felt paralyzed her, yet almost numbed her.

Ironically though, when the knife sunk into her flesh, she was not numb.

Regardless, she gasped awake to no knife, and instead phantom pains slithering down her spine.

She sighed to herself and threw off the blankets. She was covered in sweat, and she couldn’t help but grimace. She’d have to wash her sheets at some point.

Clair stepped out of her room and to the bathroom. It was empty, thankfully, so she stripped and carefully folded her clothes beside one of the stalls.

The water warmed immediately over her, and she took a moment to enjoy the heat. Being the first awake had its perks. But quickly, she snapped out of her revere and washed her hair before turning off the water and drying off.

Agents who had overnight shifts would be returning in half an hour, according to the clock on the wall, so she wanted to get out as soon as possible.

No sooner did she get dressed and leave did she bump into Kirin.

“Oh, sorry, Clair.” Kirin apologized, sidestepping her. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m well.” She replied. “What’re you doing awake?”

Kirin smiled a little, “Early meeting with Rain. Couldn’t get out of it.”

Clair tutted. “That’s too bad. He should really know not to do those.” Kirin had the luxury of planning most of her meetings, which meant she didn’t have to get up at 0500 like her.

Another agent slipped past them with a quiet apology, jostling her slightly. “Sorry,” He murmured.

Clair ignored him. “Well, I’ll let you go. I, on the other hand, have a place to be. I’ll see you later.”

They parted ways, and she wandered down to the weapons department. She loved getting up early because she could always stop by a department before the rush of other agents. It gave her the freedom of space.

Yesterday, the weapons development department asked if she could test a prototype gun, and she eagerly agreed. She liked the feeling of a brand new weapon, and the engineer was always a great conversationalist.

Her name was Angela, and she was an easy woman to love. She was the type of person who threw herself into her work with a dedication that only some could claim, yet she wasn’t cruel to those around her. She was kind and sunny in an infectious way, and even when Clair was in the worst of moods, Angela always managed to bring a smile to her face.

Clair had never experienced romantic attraction and probably never would, but she was sure she’d fall in love if she did.

She knocked lightly on the lab door and waited until Angela called out to enter.

“Hey, it’s Clair.” She announced.

Angela was in the backroom and poked her head out of the door to greet her. “Hi! Thanks for coming over, I hope it wasn’t a big issue.”

Clair shrugged. “Don’t worry, I always get up early. It’s never inconvenient.”

“Good,” She grinned and brought out a handgun. “This doesn’t look like much, but I made a few modifications to it.”

She stepped through the room and to the outdoor shooting range. By now, the sun was rising, the mist of the night clearing away.

In other words, it was beautiful. But the target range was even more so. Angela followed her, taking her time to admire their surroundings, explaining, “There are two chambers in that gun, one with bullets and one with darts. The bullets are rubber, and the darts are metal but contain no substances.”

Clair nodded. “So, do they shoot at the same time?”

Angela shook her head. She didn’t think so. “On the handle, there’s a lever that changes the barrels.”

Clair identified the switch and aimed at the target. She took a breath and fired.

It was a bullet that time, as evident by the recoil. Clair pressed the switch and fired again.

The dart recoil was significantly less, and the dart itself wasn’t airborne for long. “Hm,” Clair hummed and shot again.

She was more prepared for the dart, but it wasn’t very aerodynamic.

Angela nodded to herself and jotted down something on a piece of paper. “How’s the switch, easy to find?”

Clair adjusted her hands to look for the switch. “A little close to where I rest my thumb,” she brushed against the switch, pressing it lightly. She felt the chambers change. “Maybe too easy to switch projectiles.”

“Okay, and I see that the dart wasn’t very effective long-range.”

“Yes, this gun is clearly not for darts.” Clair noted. She aimed again and shot a bullet. “But it does work well with bullets.”

Angela grinned and took the weapon. “That’s good to know. Thank you for taking time to test this.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Clair insisted. “I do enjoy playing with new toys.”

The older woman scowled playfully. “It would seem that way, how you Air agents keep forgetting to bring back your weapons.”

At that, Clair grinned. It was almost tradition to chuck their gun at something when it ran out of bullets, particularly handguns. It drove the weaponry department crazy, and some joked they would start to chip the weapons instead of the agents.

“Yes, well at least I try.” She only started doing it since her promotion, but she was far more consistent than many agents.

“Yes, and you’re so good at it.” Angela rolled her eyes. “And-“ She was cut off by her phone ringing. She glanced down at it and grimaced. “My boss wants me. I’m going to have to let you go.”

Clair patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck with that. I also have to do something in,” she glanced at her wrist, “two hours.”

Angela was already emptying the gun into her palm, slipping the bullets into her lab coat pocket. “I’ll call for you if I have anything else, have a good day!”

Clair stood still for a moment, allowing the engineer to gather her things and leave before she strolled back into the building.

She spent her free hours doing something mindless. She had a mission around 0700, but it wasn’t supposed to be high stakes. She was going to an abandoned warehouse to investigate potential ghost guns.

On the surface, the mission was to find out if there were any left, but what STARS actually wanted to know was where those guns might have gone. It was so simple that it shouldn’t have required a commander’s attention.

Clair wondered, often, what would happen if she rejected a request to do such a mission. Such an easy task wouldn’t require much of a punishment? And now she was named, they wouldn’t kick her out for that?

It was something she daren’t attempt, though it lingered on her mind as she left for the warehouse.

The warehouse stood innocently empty as she approached on foot. The air was hot, and she was sweating already just by walking a mile from the drop off point.

The comm in her ear had been shockingly silent, a little worrisome on any other mission.

Oh, how she envied the handlers right now. In their air-conditioned space, with iced water at the tips of their fingers.

Just thinking about it made her dizzy, and it was a stark reminder that she forgot to eat that morning.

She circled the large warehouse and found only a back exit. There was a pile of sand piled against the doorstep, and a fine layer of it on the handle.

The front entrance was a pair of large doors that she took one look at and decided to try a window.

She found one, reasonably high up on the side of the building, but she had a grappling hook.

The retraction tended to dislocate her shoulder, so Clair opted to ease herself up slowly and peek inside.

Empty, predictable.

She quickly swept the inside and found absolutely nothing, not even a trace of human activity. The ground was sandy, without even a hint of boot prints or cargo, the walls, sandy. Humans weren’t here recently.

How strange. Clair took pictures of her findings should her handler, who hadn’t spoken once, questioned why she came back empty-handed.

She could do amazing things, but she wasn’t a miracle worker, and finding something out of this mess would qualify as a miracle.

Clair got back to the base grumpy and covered in sand. Her handler didn’t even greet her, so she said goodbye to the pilot and took a shower.

She glanced at her watch. 0950, she still had time to get some breakfast food from the cafeteria.

She pivoted on her heel from her room and to the mess hall.

She didn’t get very far. A handler ran into her, nearly slamming into her in his panicked running.

Clair grunted in response. The man looked at her, “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

He stopped in his tracks. “Kirin is dead.”

She blinked at him. And again. “Excuse me?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the world got dizzy, and she must have collapsed because her vision went dark.

: : :

She gasped awake to phantom pains running down her spine.

Clair could not explain what happened, because that was far too vivid to be a dream.

Kirin.

Clair jumped out of bed and sprinted to Kirin’s room and froze outside her door. She wasn’t sure if she could take it if no one responded. She took a step back and looked at her watch—July 19th. Clair frowned. She swore yesterday was the 19th, her dull desert mission day.

Clair nearly jumped in surprise when Kirin opened the door.

They stared at each other for a second before Kirin said, “Oh, did you need something?”

She blinked at her. “You’re alive.”

Kirin frowned. “I am. What’s this about?”

Clair blinked again. “It’s nothing.” She backed up. “Sorry to worry you, I just had a weird dream.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kirin said. She didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged and went to the shower rooms anyway.

The action reminded her that Angela had called ‘yesterday’ and wanted her to test out that dart gun if the date was July 19th.

She visited the department. The gun was the same.

There was still a call at 0545 that cut their experiments short.

She still had hours to kill.

Clair wandered the facility and decided to cancel her participation in the mission. It was useless in her dream, and her dream seemed pretty accurate.

She approached Rain’s door and was about to knock when familiar voices drifted past the wood.

“-threat.” She frowned and leaned closer.

“What about her?” Kirin’s voice was difficult to make out, but it was her.

“-distraction, she’s a self-sacrificing idiot.” Rain’s tired voice replied.

That made Clair frown. Who was this self-sacrificing idiot? There were a lot of those in Elemental Air.

Regardless, she stepped away and knocked on the door.

The chatter inside stopped immediately. “Who is it?” Rain called out.

“It’s Clair,” she said, “I wanted to talk about my mission.”

Some shuffling and the door unlocked. Clair pushed it open and greeted her superiors with a smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Rain shrugged idly, “You’re not, don’t worry. What about this mission?”

“It’s in about an hour, but I doubt it’ll be worth the time and effort to go out there,” Clair explained. “I think it’s in Arizona, in a desert.”

Rain hummed in response and began flipping through files. Kirin stared thoughtfully out of Rain’s window, maybe looking at something, but more likely thinking about everything.

“Ah, yes, the potential weapons storage.” Rain finally replied. Clair leveled her gaze onto him. “I’m sorry, but I think you should go.”

“But why?” She asked, frowning. “The scouts didn’t find a thing, and they are always thorough enough to find anything important and competent enough to report it.”

“It’s an important thing to clarify.” Kirin contributed unhelpfully.

Clair waved a hand, frustrated. “Then send some other agent, I could be doing so many more things.”

“We’re trusting you on this operation.” Rain interjected. “Since this is dealing with potential government registered guns, we need someone who’s not going to let anything slip.”

That shut her up real quick. Rain and Kirin, and even herself, were careful when they threw around the word ‘trust.’ It held meaning to them, as all words did at some point, but much more than that.

It said, without words, that she belonged, in some way, that they were _hers_ in much the same way that she was _theirs_.

“Okay.” She said quietly and left. It stung a little, as well. They knew how she’d react to their words. Rain could have been lying to her face, yet she’d still follow his orders like a good little machine.

She was young, barely 18, and already had a kill count higher than that. There weren’t many agents who had been that age, much less currently were, who could say that.

There were the older agents who also had blood on their hands, but to them, she was a baby. They couldn’t relate to her struggles in quite the same way.

The few young adults in STARS were horrified at the things she did, couldn’t even fathom taking life.

She was lonely and desperate, and Kirin and Rain knew that.

She went on the mission, of course. She found nothing again, but at least this time, she drank water and ate food beforehand.

She glanced at her watch. 0959. She almost didn’t care when an agent, a different one, came rushing to her and told her that Kirin was dead.

: : :

Clair jolted awake in her bed. She didn’t even bother with anything else, merely looked at her watch to confirm the date.

July 19th. What a mundane date, she thought. July 19th. A Tuesday, at that. Another workday.

She had discussed the possibility of time loops before, all theoretical. She didn’t understand the science of it and probably never would; she was the muscle, not the brain.

It was during what was supposed to be a serious meeting with the other commanders. The meeting was clearly pointless, and it quickly devolved into a casual get together, and eventually, one of them landed on time loops.

At first, it was the idea of it, the potential science of it, and then it was about codes that STARS or at least the Constellation branch could use to let each other know that they were stuck.

Then they went back and forth between what they would do if they were in a time loop.

Rune had said they would want to get out at soon as possible. Varina said she’d take a few days off to fuck around before trying to end the loop.

She hadn’t contributed to that conversation in particular, but now she could say she had been in a time loop.

July 19th. 0500 to 1000, a five-hour gap that just wouldn’t move forward.

She had to laugh—what a boring day.

: : :

She spent the third iteration of July 19th locked in her room. She ignored the missions, ignored the call for testing (even if it hurt to let Angela down, even though it wouldn’t matter), and just watched the clock tick to 10:00 when she proceeded to pass out.

Nothing changed, predictably.

: : :

She tried the classic, killing yourself, the fourth day. She had entered the weapons department, picked up her standard-issue gun, and splattered her brains over the walls.

It hurt. A lot, actually, more than she anticipated. Then it didn’t, and she jerked awake in her bed again.

: : :

On the fifth loop, she finally pulled herself together and decided to end this damn thing once and for all.

Clair did take a shower, but it was thoughtless and quick. She did encounter Kirin but didn’t stop to talk.

She did test out the gun and gave feedback without even having to touch it. She left before Angela’s cell phone rang.

Her movements were calculated, sure of herself. She listened in on the meeting between Kirin and Rain and understood that there was a threat against the Elemental headquarters, which is why they wanted Clair to be off base.

To prevent a repeat of five years ago.

Clair had stepped foot into the transport vehicle, but knocked out the pilot mid-flight and took control of the helicopter. Her flying was shaky at best, but her basic training in everything helped.

She arrived back at the base at 0900. She was going in blind, she wasn’t sure when the shots began and who fired them, but the only thing she knew was that Kirin had to survive.

Clair opened the door to the command center. It was large and open, with multiple screens set up and many handlers at their stations.

A few looked up at her entrance, but they all looked back down when they noticed her. She was, after all, Commander Aquarius. She had a right to be anywhere unless Libra or Gemini stated otherwise, and they never did.

Regardless, she took a moment to glance at the monitors as she passed. A few agents were overseas, but the handlers were talking casually, and the cameras showed nothing urgent.

The monitor that had her information, or what was supposed to be her mission, was empty. She had gone in blind, and the thought nearly made her rage.

But she withheld that anger and continued walking until she found Kirin. She wasn’t monitoring a mission, but she was watching one play out on screen.

Clair checked her watch. 0945. Soon.

No sooner had she thought that a gunshot rang out through the command center.

Kirin was the first to respond, drawing her weapon and scanning around for the source.

Another few shots. A glass window shattered, despite the promise of it being bulletproof.

They were outside. Clair drew her weapon and moved toward Kirin instinctively.

“Clair, what are you doing here?” Kirin demanded. The other handlers ignored them.

“Change of plans,” She replied. “Couldn’t let you die.”

“What?” Kirin frowned at her. But she didn’t need to explain before shoving her down.

“They’re probably gunning for you, stay down,” Clair hissed. She returned fire as the assailants made themselves known, shooting at the handlers.

She missed Kirin’s expression twisting into something ugly, something scared, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Clair managed a headshot on one of them and ducked under another bullet. “Come out a hero, or die trying,” she breathed before shooting again.

She took stock of how many there were. Five still around, but they were falling quickly. The handlers were just as competent as their agents, meaning it was rather easy.

The gunfire stopped abruptly. “Everyone okay?” She called out.

Noises of confirmation drifted through the room, and Clair sighed in relief, turning the safety back on. She glanced at one of the bodies near her but didn’t recognize any of the logos.

She glanced at her watch and waited until the seconds ticked past 1000.

She turned to smile at Kirin, only to blackout.

: : :

Clair swam back to consciousness to a sterile white room. She recognized it immediately as the medical bay.

She raised her left wrist to squint at the numbers. July 19th. 1100.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest at 3k words. Nice.


	13. 11:00 - Punctual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla talks to an old friend who brings up painful memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Lyla, Hazel  
> Relationship(s): Hazel/Luther mention, Hazel & Lyla  
> Warning(s): Past abuse mention

Lyla glanced at her watch. 10:57. Her office was large, too big for one person, but her company manager had insisted that if she were to be a CEO, she should have an office to reflect that.

Regardless, it felt empty. The minute hand ticked up. 10:58. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about meeting with Hazel, they had done this dozens of times.

She already had the food on the table, a seat across from her ready to be sat in. Her stomach turned in anxious knots as the minute hand ticked up again. 10:59.

Perhaps her anxiety came from the recent news of their old captors resurfacing. They hadn’t talked since Gianni was released, but she was sure Hazel was dying to address it. Their meeting was business, yes, but it was also a reminder of the past.

Her intercom buzzed to life. “Ms. Ketly, Mrs. Ater is here to see you.” She glanced at her watch. Exactly 11:00. No one ever said Hazel wasn’t prompt.

“Let her in.” She replied.

A second passed and all the while her throat still tightened. But just like that, the door opened and Hazel was there, in her business suit and a smile on her face. “Lyla, it’s been too long.” She greeted, sitting gracefully in the seat across from her.

Lyla smiled back, leaning forward slightly to grab a utensil. “It certainly has. How have you been?”

Hazel’s smile got dreamier. “Luther is simply marvelous. He sends his regards.”

“And me to him.” She replied. “Please, eat.”

Hazel twirled the fork in her hand. Lyla wondered what it was like in a bitter, mean spirited way, to have all her memories in tact. Gianni was still a ghost to her, the fragments of memories she managed to keep only painted a part of the picture.

Hazel never had her memory forcibly wiped, she could recount with perfect detail the assaults on her body, even now.

Her testimony was enough to keep whoever took her in jail, but Lyla’s wasn’t enough. Gianni was released on good behavior and parole.

“What’re you thinking so hard about, Lyla?” Hazel inquired.

A smile flicked across her lips. “I think you can guess.”

Hazel took another bite of food, a chewed slowly. “Gianni.” She finally replied. “He can’t hurt you.”

“I’m trying to believe that.” Lyla stabbed a slice of meat with her fork. “But the doctors couldn’t remove my triggers. There’s no telling what he could do if…” She trailed off.

“He can’t get close enough, though.” Hazel pointed out. “And besides, you’re somebody now, there are people who will miss you.”

Lyla sighed. “I know. I just can’t relive that, that coming down, the pain.” She took a sip of water to stop her rambling.

Hazel didn’t reply. She was acutely aware that Hazel was working on her own trauma and was much further in her recovery than Lyla had ever been. They stayed silent for awhile.

The silence was oppressive but Lyla knew how to resist. She ignored her own sense of discomfort and instead looked Hazel over. She was significantly less happy than when she walked in, and almost looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out before Lyla could fully think through them.

Hazel’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” She repeated. “For making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention when I invited you for lunch, and I apologize for doing so.”

“It’s not your fault.” Hazel replied quietly. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been in the best headspace since his release. He represents so much I’ve tried so hard to suppress.”

There was a sick sense of comfort in that statement, in that Lyla wasn’t suffering alone, that she wasn’t as far behind as she thought.

Hazel always put up a good act. It should not have surprised her that the smiling, happily married woman in front of her was just another cover.

“Me too.” Lyla said. “I just wish I could move past what happened.”

Hazel nodded slowly. “I want that too. But that was years ago, and I think we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

Lyla smiled a little. “Me too.” She repeated.


	14. 12:00 - Lunchtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clair works at a coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Clair, Pluto, Rain, Amber, Kirin  
> Relationship(s): None  
> Warning(s): None

Clair didn’t think she would ever have to work at a coffee shop. It felt surreal, that even with her education, the callouses on her hands, that she’d end up here.

It wasn’t as easy as she assumed, and even though she had only started a week ago, there was already a fair share of odd customers.

The bell above the door jingled lightly as a middle-aged man pushed his way through the door. He was dressed nicely and was probably a businessman. He was distracted by someone chattering into his earpiece.

“I’d like a tall coffee, extra shot of espresso.” He said without an introduction.

Clair nodded and picked up a cup and a sharpie. “Anything else with that?” He shook his head no. “And what’s your name, sir?”

“Rain.” He replied thoughtlessly. “Like how you’d spell it.”

She jotted down his order, intentionally spelling his name wrong (Rayn) and handed it off to her coworker, Pluto. “Your total is $4.76.”

He handed her a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She almost regretted spelling his name wrong.

The man shuffled off to a corner booth and appeared to pull out a laptop. She greeted another customer and took her order (a grande soy extra hot latte), and Clair had to calmly explain that they were not Starbucks and didn’t have a grande size.

Pluto called out Rain’s order as she prepared Amber’s, the girl who didn’t know they weren’t Starbucks, drink.

She had worked with Pluto on other days. He was broody and grumpy, but he did his work.

She glanced at her watch as a lull in customers fell over the shop. 10:45. She had an early morning shift and got off around noon, so just a bit more, and she would be done, thankfully.

Clair couldn’t help but notice Rain was still in the corner, typing away at his laptop. The shop had WiFi and a policy that a customer had to buy something every two hours to stay.

But Pluto rarely enforced it, and Rain’s time would be up after she left, so she figured it wasn’t her issue.

Amber also seemed to stick around. Though Pluto certainly had his eye on her, she didn’t pay him any mind.

The woman (because on further consideration, Amber was probably older than her, and Clair hit her 18th birthday just a month ago) kept stealing glances at her.

Clair was used to that, but certainly not in this circumstance. It made her jumpy, but she only had a pen in her pocket instead of her handy-

The bell above the door rang again, and one glance at Pluto told her this person was her responsibility.

She walked forward and smiled pleasantly at the stranger. “Good morning, what can I get started for you?”

The man took a second to stare at her as if he recognized her. Though her expression remained unchanged, her palms felt clammy against the cool countertop.

“A caffè Americano, medium.” He finally said.

She nodded and told him the price. He kept eyeing her face like he was trying to decipher where he had seen her before. It was so apparent that Pluto had noticed and kept glancing back at them.

The name he gave was Zack, but she swore she also knew him from somewhere. But he wasn’t their objective.

The man took his order and sat down at an empty table.

The rest of her shift was her ignoring the multiple lingering eyes on her person as she worked. Only one set was supposed to be tracking her. It felt odd and mildly flattering, if not creepy.

The clock ticked over to noon, and she practically rushed to get changed out of the work uniform. Since the cafe owners were wealthy, they liked their staff to dress uniformly and could afford it.

Clair grabbed her backpack and slipped out of the employee’s only way. She didn’t have a weapon with her, but she did have pepper spray. It would be rather unusual for a broke college student to conceal carry, and she didn’t want people to suspect her intentions.

But she’d do anything for her gun right now.

“Hey.”

A voice to her right almost made her jump, her heart pounding against her rib cage, hands moving to defend herself. But it was only Amber.

“Oh, hi, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” She blurted, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“I just wanted to tell you to watch out.” Amber continued, ignoring her response. “There were two men in there that kept eyeing you.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Clair responded awkwardly, fidgeting with the bag strap. “I have pepper spray, don’t worry.”

The other woman nodded like she had gotten something she wanted. “Stay safe.” And she was gone.

Clair watched her leave, her long red hair blowing in the wind, before a car with tinted windows pulled in front of her. She peered curiously inside and indeed couldn’t see anything. Was that even legal?

The window rolled down to reveal Kirin’s face. “So, who was that?”

Clair slipped into the back seat, huffing. “A customer. She warned me that two men were watching me oddly.”

Kirin twisted around in her seat so they could talk face to face. The driver rolled up the window and pulled away from the curb. “I assume one was Rain, but who was the other?”

Clair shrugged. “I dunno. Recognized him though. But yeah, Rain was keeping an eye out. No sign of our target today.”

Kirin hummed nonchalantly. “I am doubting this operation’s success rate. It seems highly unlikely that a world renowned criminal would frequent a coffee shop.”

“Technically we’re world renowned criminals and we stop at the same place every day.” Clair pointed out.

“We’re not _criminals_.”

“We kill people for a living.”

“ _You_ kill people for a living.”

Clair grinned. “Nah, I work at a coffee shop for a living.”

Kirin snorted, unamused. “For a month at most. Get ready to say goodbye to your domestic dreams, kiddo.”

“Oh, a world of crippling student debt and minimum wages?” She gasped dramatically. “How I mourn my missed opportunities.”


	15. 13:00 - Instantaneous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirin is suffering from Hanahaki, a fictional disease where if a victim experienced unrequited love, they begin to cough up flower petals. Clair simultaneously wants everything to do with it, and nothing to do with it.
> 
> If you're familiar with hanahaki in fiction, this doesn't follow the traditional rules. The flower color depends on the type of unrequited love and the flower type depends on who it's associated with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Clair, Kirin, Rain  
> Relationship(s): Unrequited Kirin/Unknown  
> Warning(s): Illness, mild blood

Kirin was nervous. That was the first thing Clair noticed when she walked into her superior’s office. Her desk was clear of all files, minus one, and the books were organized by author then title, which Kirin only did when she needed something to take her mind off something else.

“Please, sit down.” Kirin greeted, gesturing to the seat across from her. Clair followed the instructions without protest but took a moment to glance at the floor.

Recently swept, but the trashcan wasn’t emptied, which meant Kirin probably did it, not the janitorial staff. Interesting.

“Your next mission is in London.”

The other woman’s voice made her eyes snap up. “Really,” Clair replied carefully. She took the file from Kirin’s desk and opened it up. A flower petal stuck to the pages, but she didn’t mention it, and instead, read the file.

“Moon Dust.” Clair read aloud. “I thought we already had her in custody?”

Kirin coughed into her elbow and said, “Well, we have Moon Shard. Dust is her counterpart, and we’ve only confirmed her existence since Shard began cooperating.”

Clair hummed and turned the page. Dust’s dossier was incomplete, and it looked like whoever wrote it spent quite some time in certain places.

Specifically, the name, which was currently blank. “Who wrote Dust’s dossier?” She asked as she scanned the page.

“I did.”

Clair glanced up. “Did you write the mission too?” A nod.

There wasn’t anything else in the file, so the petal must belong to Kirin somehow. Other than that, though, there weren’t any oddities.

Kirin coughed again. Clair looked up and nearly jerked out of her seat. The tissue Kirin was covering her mouth with was slowly blooming red with blood.

“Kirin, are you okay?” She asked frantically. She didn’t remember Kirin going on a mission recently, but the blood indicated injuries too severe to have been caused without one.

Kirin’s eyes widened a little. “I’m fine.” She spat out.

“You should go to the infirmary.” Clair got up and moved to help her, but Kirin shoved her away.

“I’m not injured.” She managed. Her coughing fit seemed to be over, but her next breath sounded wheezy.

“Then what?” Clair questioned. She glanced at the trash can and found similar bloody issues in it. “Because whatever it is, it isn’t right.”

Kirin laughed harshly. “It’s a disease. Flower disease.”

Clair swallowed nervously. She knew about the flower coughing disease, how unrequited love left people vulnerable to a flower growing in their lungs.

She was, at the very least, on the aromantic spectrum, so she had never experienced it. “Who is it for?” She finally asked.

The other woman tossed the tissue into the trash, before slumping back. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve had it for a year, but it’s never been this bad.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. It was incredibly rare to survive so long with that disease. “Why can’t you remove it?”

“I work with them, Clair.” Kirin ground out. “Go, meet with Rain. I can’t do this right now.”

Clair bit her lip but nodded and slowly left the room. “Please, talk to me later.”

“It’ll only make it worse.” Kirin muttered as she shut the door.

Clair clutched the file in her hands as she made her way to Rain’s office. Who did Kirin hang out with enough to catch such a harsh disease? The flower was pink in her file, so she suspected it wasn’t Rain.

When she was younger, she did her research on the disease, and the color was significant, more about the intent than the person.

Pink, last she remembered, appeared in cases where superiors were in love with a subordinate. Kirin was rather high up in STARS, so the color didn’t narrow down the possibilities.

But whoever her feelings were for had to be necessary to her work, enough that removing all attachments was worse than an actual relationship.

Odd, and more so that Kirin hadn’t done anything about it.

She damn near crashed into the door in front of her but caught herself before doing so.

Clair filed her thoughts away for later before knocking. “Rain, it’s Clair, Kirin told me she wanted you to debrief me instead.”

“Come in.” Case muffled from inside. She pushed the door open.

Rain was looking out the window. His view was one of the better ones in the building, and the sun was high over the sky, bathing the campus in light. 

She sat down without being prompted. “Kirin seems to be coming down with the flower disease, and needs time to recover.” Clair explained.

“I was going to ask you about that.” Rain said, turning around. “I’ve never seen her cough up petals myself, but I do find them a lot.”

“What color?”

“Pink.”

She pulled out the petal from the file. “Like this?”

He scrutinized it. “Exactly like that. Did Kirin tell you anything?”

“She works with them, and it’s been going on for years.” Clair replied. “I honestly figured it wasn’t you, based on the color. But who associates with that flower?”

Rain looked thoughtful before picking out a book of local wildflowers. He flipped through the pages before landing on one. “I think the flower is called tuberose, which is common in perfumes.”

Clair quirked a brow. “I think I have a perfume with that flower in it. Kirin gave it to me when I completed my first successful mission.”

Rain shut the book and tucked it away. “It could be you.”

She blinked at him, then snorted. “I doubt that. I’m not very likable.”

“I mean.” He sat down. “It lines up, right?”

Clair thought for a second. “I guess.”

Rain shrugged. “Anyways, let’s look over your mission, though I assume your handler knows more than me.”

“My handler is usually Kirin.” Clair replied. “I have a feeling she won’t be in any shape, unless the disease calms down some.”

Regardless, Rain had access to all the files that were confidential for agents to look at, and she had all the information required to complete the mission.

She was released an hour later and left to prepare.

Her pre-mission prep usually meant eating something healthy, stretch and do some light exercises, look over her given weapons then taking it easy.

However, throughout her routine, her thoughts kept drifting back to the petal.

Was Rain right? She didn’t think so. It was likely Kirin gave trinkets to all of the agents under her. The chances of Kirin being in love with her, Clair, one of the lost children STARS had found and saved, were slim to none.

Clair resigned herself to dying alone and Kirin’s mysterious affections wouldn’t change a thing.


	16. 14:00 - Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veda as a statue watches civilizations rise and fall, and meets a young girl named Saga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Veda, Saga  
> Relationship(s): Saga & Veda, Saga/Unnamed mention  
> Warning(s): Murder, Blood

Veda was a goddess, but she never felt like one. She was born too late for the ancient civilizations to acknowledge her existence. No one was there to wax poetry of her power, or her kindness, or her ruthlessness. She was one of the many forgotten goddesses stuck on earth.

Unlike most, she never took on a human form. She was a statue at the top of a hill, overlooking a lush land of trees.

Years passed in a blink of an eye. She sat atop her hill and watched as the little people around her built-up settlements only to tear them down with fire and blood. The cycle was all the same, it seemed.

Only until a small human child walked up her hill did she take any note of the mortals below her.

“Who is she?” The young child asked. Their parent was looking up at her, taking in her still form.

“A goddess.” The adult said. “We don’t know her name, but she has always been here.”

Lies. Veda wanted to say something, but her mouth was overgrown with vines and leaves and immortal or no, she could not speak.

“What does she do?”

The adult did not answer. “We may see later, Saga. If we revisit her, maybe you’ll find something.”

They left. The child, Saga, rolled down the hill, their once-white cloth stained green from the grass. The parent shook their head but did not stop them. Veda watched them leave until they were merely ants in the colony.

She shut her eyes again.

It was only later that Veda realized years had passed when she heard a voice at her feet. She opened her eyes.

This human was significantly older than the young Saga, yet she introduced herself as Saga, a young girl from the village.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t visit you yesterday.” Saga lamented. “The river flooded our house, and my mother was killed.”

Veda didn’t know how to respond, even if she could. There was a twinge of sadness in her cold stone heart.

“You met her, actually.” Saga continued. “She was the one who brought me here first. I like to think she’s with you now.”

There was no one with them, except the wildlife and the sun. It was a nice sentiment, though.

“I’ll try to visit tomorrow, but I don’t think my father will want me gone.”

With that, Saga touched the stone Veda stood upon and left.

Veda watched her leave like before. Her body was even stiffer than the last time she was awake, and there was more foliage in her hair.

Saga did not return the next day. She only returned years later. She was taller, more shapely, and her voice was deeper.

“I researched you in the library today.” Saga started. She sat down in the grass, facing away from her. “Your name is Veda, and you’re a goddess.” Saga looked up. “Your existence isn’t well documented. I’m sorry.”

Veda wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. Veda was rather fine with being unremarkable, but now she wished she could speak again. She wanted to talk with this young woman, tell her tale, but it was too late.

Saga left again, and Veda tracked her the whole way.

The next time Saga came to visit was years later. She was with a child in her stomach, yet still climbed her hill to speak with her.

“I’m having a child soon.” That Veda knew. “I hope to show you him one day.” That Veda didn’t know. “I want him to be named Vedo. It doesn’t mean anything yet.”

Veda couldn’t fathom why this mortal would want to name her child after an unknown god, but now she desperately wished to embrace her. Gently, to greet her son as she said.

Saga did visit with her boy later. The boy was still a child, but Saga had never looked happier.

“His father doesn’t understand this.” Saga confided. “He thinks I shouldn’t make this trip anymore, after all, I’m needed in the house.” She smiled ruefully. “But he doesn’t understand. I know you’re just a statue, but I almost feel like you’re family.”

Family. Veda didn’t really have one. Her father was unknown, her mother uncaring. She liked this notion, to be this mortal’s family.

Years passed until Saga came back. Veda had fallen asleep sometime while waiting, and when she woke up, it was to death and decay. The balances had shifted, and the time of death was upon the small village.

Saga could barely stand as she pulled herself up to her feet. “Veda, I’m sorry.”

Please, she wanted to whisper. Run. Leave me.

But Saga didn’t budge. She didn’t seem to have the strength to. “War is upon us.” Saga said, her voice strained. “I managed to escape, but not for long.”

In the distance, Veda could hear the war cries of unknown forces. Yes, her escape was temporary if she stayed here, but surely she would have a better chance in the forest?

Saga curled into herself. “Vedo is dead. His father is too, but he was a warrior. Vedo was only a child. I refuse to die alone in the woods. You’re my only family left, Veda.”

Veda could do nothing when men with gleaming metal marched up the hill and slaughtered Saga at her feet. Saga’s blood splashed over her body, and all she could do was stare.

The years kept marching on. Her body was falling apart. The rain came and washed away the blood over the land, but nothing could remove the stains over her stone.

She never got to watch Vedo grow up. She never watched Saga’s parents grow up. Her legacy lived and died with Saga.

The village regrew with new people. They built homes and walls and grew food in the dirt that was exposed. They had no idea of the massacre that took place on the very ground that they stood on. 

Life was a brutal cycle of death and life, and Veda was almost happy to have not taken a mortal body. She only wished she didn’t get attached to something so fleeting. For mortals, life was short and sad and filled with suffering.

If only she knew that when Saga first looked at her with those wide, curious eyes.


	17. 15:00 - Unpredictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a daughter of a royal official, Saga is surprised she wasn't forced to marry someone sooner. Please read the warnings. Historical ish AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Saga, Primavera, Veda  
> Relationship(s): Saga/Veda, Saga/Primavera  
> Warning(s): Underage marriages, extramarital affairs

Frankly, Saga was surprised her parents didn’t make her marry someone sooner. Yes, she was the youngest of her siblings, but that didn’t stop her father from arranging marriages for them at young ages in order to strengthen Oftola.

She was 25 and just now getting married. Her brother was married when he was 15.

“The Duchy of Rirkey would like to make an alliance.” Her father had said. “They have no sons, but a daughter. You are to marry her without complaint.”

Same sex arranged marriages were rare, but their marriage was purely political. They weren’t even expected to have an heir, so there were apparently no issues.

Her mother had given Saga a look after she was dismissed. It was a look that said, I know more about you than your father. You’re welcome.

She was, in fact, in love with another woman named Veda. She was from a powerful family in an already friendly country. If they were less friendly, or maybe needed an alliance, they might have gotten married.

But now, she was betrothed to a stranger. She didn’t even know her name.

“The wedding will be here, in a month.” Her mother explained to her a day after she was told. “I would recommend keeping your,” she had paused, “ _affair_ a secret.”

She had wanted to say, this wedding was the affair, this Rirkian Lady was the other woman. It wasn’t fair to Veda.

But voicing those thoughts would be counterproductive. Truthfully, Saga was lucky to be marrying a woman she had a chance of loving instead of a man.

: : :

Saga was not excited to get married, despite her lack of protests. Her ladies in waiting and servants and maids all seemed rather excited to be part of a wedding, especially between royalty.

She wasn’t going to ruin their fun. At least someone here would enjoy it.

The dress was beautiful, pure white silk hugging her chest, the skirt flaring wonderfully to the floor. Her flowers were lily of the valley’s, her favorite. They were beautiful but deadly if handled incorrectly.

Her hair was twisted in an elegant knot at the base of her neck, with her bridal crown a family heirloom resting on her head.

Two rings rested on her finger. One, for engagement, and the other, for marriage. The third, for motherhood, was decided against evidently.

She didn’t choose the dress or flowers or the date and time. Her parents did most of the planning. She wondered idly if they missed their own youth, or if they wanted this to be just right.

Saga got to decide her maid of honor, however. She naturally chose Veda. Anyone who knew them would not be surprised, but those who really knew them would surely be.

The wedding was in the afternoon, apparently a custom in both their city-states.

The wedding was in an hour and she was yet to meet her bride to be. Everything was wrong about this, but it wasn’t her place to speak up. In fact, it would never be her place because she was barely qualified to inherit her father’s land thanks to her three older siblings.

She breathed deeply to calm her nerves.

Saga was alone now, left to think. Soon, she would be called down to see her bride for the first time, and then proceed to fake a smile all through the day. Hopefully her soon to be wife would be interesting company.

: : :

Her wife was a child.

She wanted to grind her teeth when they finally met. She would have thought her parents were sensible enough to not marry her to someone a decade younger than her, yet here they were.

“ _This is Lady Primavera of Rirkey_ ,” A man with a heavy Rirkian accent said in Oftolian.

“ _This is Lady Saga of Oftola_ ,” Her own man introduced in likewise, heavily accented Rirkian.

She tilted her head slightly in thought. “Do you speak Malecian, Lady Primavera.” She knew her accent was heavy, hardly understandable, but they may as well start out on equal footing somehow.

The girl looked startled briefly, but smiled pleasantly. “Of course, Lady Saga. Would you prefer it?” Her accent wasn’t as bad, though Malecian was at least vaguely similar to Rirkian.

“How old are you?” She asked, instead of answering.

“Turning 16 this fall.” Primavera replied. “And you, if I may ask.”

“Turned 25 this winter.”

Their men clearly looked uncomfortable, as neither of them spoke enough to contribute or stop them. “ _Lady Saga, please_ ,”

“ _Please what, Mister Verner? Please refrain from talking to my wife?_ ” She snapped in Oftolian.

She wondered, as she was lead away, if Primavera knew more Oftolian than she let on. A flicker of understanding reflected in her eyes.

: : :

“ _So, Lady Primavera, do you speak Oftolian?_ ” Saga murmured in said language. The wedding reception was over, lasting well until 1600, and they finally got a chance to speak.

She had recognized most of the traditions as Oftolian, but a few were different, like how Primavera threw her bouquet of flowers.

Saga was still clutching hers, though it was soon to be set down and whisked out of sight. “I do.” Primavera replied just as quietly, though in Malecian. “I understand it, but don’t speak it well.”

“I’ll teach you.” She replied in Malecian. “Get to know the country while you’re here.”

Primavera smiled up at her. “So much is different. I’m surprised we walked down the aisle together.”

“Tradition.” Saga replied. “It seems rather _patriarkalisk_ in our _likvärdig_ society.”

She did not know the words in Malecian, and it appeared that Primavera didn’t know the words in Oftolian. “What do those words mean?”

“ _Patriarkalisk_ is where men rule all.” She replied. “And _likvärdig_ means equal.”

“Ah,” Recognition flickered across her face again. “The Malecian is similar to Rirkian.”

They fell silent after their brief exchange. Saga got the impression that Primavera wasn’t adapted to big parties as well as she was.

: : :

“ _So, how is your wife?_ ” Veda asked in Balanish when she had managed to sneak away. “ _Leaving her to fend off the kisses?_ ”

Saga grinned. She was now thoroughly intoxicated and felt an itch to get away from the stifling expectations of the company. In the same language, she said, “ _I’m teaching her Oftolian traditions_.” She leaned against the wall, almost daring Veda to approach.

“ _Like the one where you kiss your bridesmaid?_ ” Veda leaned closer, grinning. Saga didn’t stop her. “ _It’s my favorite tradition._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rirkian = Italian  
> Oftolian = Swedish  
> Malecian = Latin  
> Balanish = Danish
> 
> The wedding traditions mentioned are actually vaguely based on Swedish weddings, but by no means are a reflection of what life is like in Sweden. Again, fiction.


	18. 16:00 - Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veda and Saga's relationship and how it changed based on the whims of their employers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Saga, Veda  
> Relationship(s): Past Saga/Veda implied  
> Warning(s): Gun violence, torture mention

Breathe in. Line up the shot. Veda was right there, all she needed to do was squeeze the trigger and she’d fall.

There was no Moon Dust with her this evening. Moon Dust was assigned a different, more exciting mission. But that mission did not require the duo, only an extensive knowledge of poison and cutlery, which she had neither.

So she was sent alone. It took days to track Veda, STARS was remarkably good at keeping her hidden, but eventually, she found her, vulnerable and alone.

It was just them.

She hesitated. MOON wanted to make a statement, and thought the best way was to kill someone important. So much so that she was the second assassin to be sent against her.

But MOON never reprogrammed her emotions like evil organizations did in the movies, no, they were not that evil. Her heart ached at the sight of familiar, if older, more worn, face.

She breathed in again and squinted through the scope. She was lined up for a headshot.

It would be so easy, yet instead of pulling the trigger there, she tilted the gun down and fired there.

The bang was loud as always, though the muffler did prevent it from echoing too harshly. However, it was Veda’s cries that were the loudest.

It was horrific, and everything in her body screamed at her to jump down and check on the injured woman.

But she couldn’t. She was an assassin, and a damn good one at that, so she disassembled her rifle and left, pretending that she wasn’t fleeing.

: : :

Veda survived, of course she did, but MOON was in chaos so that little fact slipped by. Moon Dust came back bleeding out, they lost Moon Berry on his mission, and one of their handlers was executed for treason.

So maybe her faulty work was overlooked. Crescent didn’t even visit her in person when she got back to the base.

She realized, then, that MOON wasn’t trying to take down STARS, they were trying to save their organization.

: : :

“Why am I not surprised you’re alive” Veda growled out. Moon Shard blinked at her, confused.

“Veda, you almost sound like you don’t want to talk to your old friend.”

The other woman’s eyes flickered away to the door for only a second. “Is that all we were? Old friends?”

Moon Shard tilted her head. “I do not know.” She stepped closer. “I’m not sure why I’m here, either.”

Veda watched her carefully. “What do you mean?”

“My contractors didn’t want me to keep a lot of my old life.” Moon Shard said. “But something inside of me told me to find you. How is your leg, by the way.”

Veda squinted at her suspiciously. “Where did you figure that out? And who are your contractors?”

“First, your leg is bleeding through its bandages and your pants, and second, it’s not important.” She replied smoothly.

Veda glanced down at her leg and Moon Shard waited patiently for her to panic and scramble for medical supplies. She stood up without being asked. “I’ll let you deal with that.”

She flippantly ignored Veda’s protests as she sauntered out of the hideout.

: : :

Her missions increasingly became more about killing people than gathering information. Granted, information was always Moon Dust’s specialty, but even so, the amount was intense. MOON must have been getting anxious.

They were heads of pockets of STARS, but she never saw Veda again.

: : :

MOON’s base of operations were under attack. Moon Dust was already gone, having gotten a head start by the fact that she was actually supposed to leave, while the rest of them were stuck.

Moon Shard shot one of their scouts successfully, and missed the other by a hair.

Scouts were never heavily armed, but they were an indication of hell to come.

Hell came in the form of very few agents with way too many bombs and Veda commanding them like an army.

An explosion threw her backwards. It disoriented her enough to miss Veda approaching, but she sure did see the muzzle of a gun.

“Imagine my surprise when it turns out you were the one who tried to kill me.” Veda said coldly. The gun she held was even colder against her forehead.

“A bit, I’d wager.” She replied, moving to sit up, only to have the gun pressed more firmly against her.

She collapsed onto her back. Her left arm was still healing from a gunshot wound, and her right was sore from making up for the left.

She was in no place to protest against Veda. “And to think you faked your death for this.”

Moon Shard tilted her head. The gun followed. “Are you here to kill me?”

Veda wanted to. She could see the desire, the twitch of her hand when she asked. Veda wanted to so bad, but instead of answering with a bullet in her brain, she said, “That’s your choice.”

: : :

She did not elect to allow Veda to shoot her, to splatter her brains against the crippled organization that taught her all she knew.

Saga allowed herself to cuffed (and knocked out) and dragged back to STARS.

They interrogated her for days, and she gave whatever answers she could.

Some, like who was in MOON and was still alive was easy. Others, like why she joined and what happened after, weren’t as much.

Veda visited often. They’d talk only business, but sometimes Saga could detect a lingering something in her tone.

She helped get Moon Dust captured. She provided information and her services to hunt her down.

Their game of hide and seek took months to finish, but in the end, she brought Moon Dust in.

She wondered, sometimes, if Moon Dust would’ve been better off dead.

STARS had to undo far more in Dust than for her, due to the differences of their treatments. Moon Dust had verbal triggers removed from her brain, physical implants that prevented her hormones from functioning properly removed, and vaccinations administered.

There were days where Moon Dust was too lucid to respond to her presence, much less reveal crucial information.

Repeatedly, during her visits that she was awake, Moon Dust asked her to kill her.

Saga never did. She only looked at her with pity and guilt, before prying further into her mind.

She extracted information from Dust in exchange for her freedom. STARS didn’t torture their prisoners, but Saga sure did.

And, after a long day of grueling questioning and physical exercise to keep her fit, she’d go back to her dorm.

Sometimes, it would be empty, exactly how she left it. Most times, though, Veda would greet her and even if she still had Moon Dust’s blood on her hands, she’d embrace her.

Saga had a hand in breaking her former ally. She hunted down the remaining remnants of MOON that she knew of. She did not change, merely took on a different logo.

All the while, Veda stood by.


	19. 17:00 - Finite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark/rant fic. Please read the warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Cressida  
> Relationship(s): None   
> Warning(s): Drug usage, self-worth issues, murder mention, suicide

The pills taunted her. They asked her if she would like one, but only one.

Cressida glared at the bottle as she curled further into herself.

Everything was wrong. She was worthless, just sitting in the dark doing nothing but worrying.

She was so scared yet the people around her only knew her as a stoic but kind person. No one would even notice she were gone, until she didn’t show up for work.

Work. She was supposed to save people but all she did was hurt and continue to hurt. She made widows, orphans, children of war.

She wasn’t saving people. She was destroying them.

Cressida clenched her jaw, trying to silence the intrusive thoughts. It didn’t work. The silence only made it worse.

She didn’t eat today. Her stomach pangs were enough of a reminder, but she wondered if that was her feeble attempt at forgiveness.

She was such a waste of resources. The trees around her, that oxygen she did not deserve. The water she drank should’ve gone to someone who deserved to quench their thirst.

That food she consumed should have gone to someone who didn’t murder innocent people and justified their actions with a sense of satisfaction.

Cressida clawed at her arms, her muffled screams bouncing uselessly off the walls. It was dark, but she knew that her nails caught skin and pulled it back.

She wanted it to bleed. She dug her nails in deeper and raked them backwards again, and it was so satisfying to feel the sting.

It was pathetic. She collapsed backwards as a sob tore through her body.

She was useless. She didn’t deserve this place. Someone else more deserving should live in such a lovely place.

She breathed heavily, staring at the blank ceiling.

Cressida wanted to be selfish. She wanted to take just a few more of the pills and close her eyes and never wake up again.

She wanted to die.

The thought struck her sudden, and then with assured motions, and sat up. She could end her evil now, prevent more death. She would be her last victim.

There were no rational thoughts when she stumbled out of bed and sloppily filled a cup with water.

She didn’t have much else, so it would have to do. The water sloshed over the side at her stumbling but she payed it little mind.

It wouldn’t matter. Soon.

She shakily pulled the top off the bottle and emptied it into her hands. They were small, inconspicuous. She had her prescription refilled that morning, meaning there was surely enough for a lethal dose.

Cressida swallowed the bundle of nerves that clawed up her throat. With slow hands, she put one in her mouth. Then another.

She had to drink water in between some, but it fell into a wonderful, distant routine.

She felt around her palm for another. There were none left. The water cup was empty too.

She let both drop off the side of the bed. It would be over soon, a little voice told her.

She rolled onto her back, her movements sluggish. Drowsiness crept up on her vision and she welcomed the numbness with open arms.


	20. 18:00 - Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A non-traditional soulmate exploration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Kirin, Clair  
> Relationship(s): Clair/Kirin  
> Warning(s): Abuse mention, temporary death mention, age difference

Kirin got her soul mark when she was 13. She didn’t understand its significance yet, only happy to have confirmed that fate had someone for her. It was nearly sundown when she felt a burn against her hip and watched in awe as the words scratched themselves into her flesh.

_ I don’t care about what you have to say. _

The script looked hastily or angrily written. The words were bold when they started on Kirin’s hip, but trailed off and blurred over her stomach like wet ink.

She didn’t know how that could be the first sentence her soulmate spoke to her. Her soulmate seemed so angry and resentful, so unlike her mother’s soft words, _my darling, you are as beautiful as the sunset_ , or of her father’s, _you flatter me, truly_.  They were in love. It was evident in their words.

She didn’t know if her soulmate could love, with first words like that. Then again, fate was never fond of her.

: : :

Kirin met her soulmate when she was 27. She had been with STARS for seven years, had lost a mentor and an arm, and gained a title. All the while, the words against her hip taunted her. Not only did her soulmate dismiss her, but they also didn’t even bother showing up for the first quarter of her life.

It was STARS that brought them together. It was nearly dinner when Rune Björk of Elemental Fire hauled in the girl, tiny and starving. Worst, though, was her skin, a mural of faded cuts and bruises.

Kirin did not know then, that this young child was supposed to be the one she cared for, protected, and loved. She barely registered anything about her. Not her hair or eyes, or the ink blurred against her hip.

They did not talk then. Something told Kirin that Clair was worth the risk of sponsorship and so she extended an invitation to join Elemental Air.

She joined. They did not talk.

: : :

Kirin spoke her soulmate’s words when she was 28. Clair had come back from a field mission. It was her first failed field mission, and she was so angry and sad, and Rain insisted Kirin talk to her.

At that point, their relationship was purely professional. Kirin and Clair knew of each other’s existence, but they had not interacted directly. Until then.

Kirin stared at the closed door in front of her. Technically, she had a key that bypassed all locks in Elemental Air, but that wasn’t what Clair needed. Maybe she needed food. It was well past 1800. Kirin knocked.

There was no reply. Kirin sighed to herself and opened the door. She didn’t even get to speak, when Clair spat, “ _I don’t care about what you have to say_. ”

Kirin blinked. “ _I haven’t even introduced myself yet_ .”

The girl snorted. She was still in her uniform, dusty with flecks of blood on her skin. “You don’t need to. I know who you are, and I don’t care.”

“You need to talk to someone.”

“I don’t want to.”

Kirin raised a brow and leaned against the closed door. “It’s either me, your handler, or the therapist.”

“Why do you even care about me, anyway?” She snapped. “I failed.”

“So have I.” She shot back. “So has everyone you’ve ever met. Do better next time.”

Clair stared at her. Her eyes were murky, dark with anxiety and fear, all clouded over with anger. “Next time.” She repeated.

“Yes.” Kirin was so bad at a lot of basic, human things, but STARS taught her forgiveness. And empathy. And second chances, even for herself. Even for people who didn’t deserve it. “You will be trained again, and you’ll have all the time in the world to question what you want to do differently.”

Clair glanced away from her, looking thoughtful. Kirin waited patiently, observing her tics, how she fidgeted. She worked her jaw, maybe suppressing a yawn. Her fingers tapped against her arm, then brushed against her hip. Kirin’s mark burned, being so close yet so far from her other half.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

Kirin didn’t need to ask about what. Talking about soulmates felt wrong, dirty. Clair was 15. She was 28.  


Maybe fate gave her a platonic soulmate. Those existed between relatives sometimes, where they didn’t have a romantic soulmate and didn’t need one.

But the fact remained that Kirin was her superior. Not her direct superior, but still sent out agents to danger with a pen and a signature. She still wrote their death sentences in black ink.

And allowing feelings to develop now may compromise Clair’s chance at STARS forever.

She sighed. “Eventually. But, not now. On a better day.”

A day where Clair didn’t see her squadmates die in front of her, her clothes weren’t stained with other people’s blood, and when she knew that failing did not mean immediate termination.

When she knew that they (Rain, Rune, STARS), and she (handler, superior,  _ soulmate _ ), would give Clair the opportunities she deserved.

: : :

Kirin first kissed her soulmate when she was 31.

She didn’t plan it. In fact, Kirin had silently vowed that she wouldn’t initiate anything between them, regardless of age. They had discussed their relationship a few times since they spoke each other’s words and concluded that a relationship was off-limits.

Clair had just turned 18, and naturally had celebrated with a traditional party.

She was laughing as they swept up empty cups and streamers and bits of wrapping paper that ended up on the floor. Kirin was right next to her and looked up, and without warning, Clair brushed her lips against hers.

The kiss was gentle, curious, hesitant almost. Clair’s eyes were closed, but Kirin’s weren’t.

“Clair,” she trailed off.

The girl, no, the woman, pulled back, eyes open. “I’m sorry,” she looked away, almost guilty. “I just wanted to know what that felt like.”

The ghost of her soulmate’s lips lingered. Her mark burned. “What did you feel?”

Clair considered the question for a moment, before looking back at her. “Nothing.”

: : :

Kirin lost her soulmate at 32. She felt her soulmate die twice that day, and it took everything in her (and Rain) to keep her from hunting down the person who shot her.

Kirin was in a meeting with Rain’s bosses (who were so important they didn’t even have names). They droned on and on, and all the while, her mark _screamed_ at her to go (find her), go (protect her),  _go_ (save her).

She couldn’t. Those were some of the worst few hours of her life, knowing that her other half needed her help, and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

Regardless of her inadequacy, of her failure, Clair survived. Her heart stopped beating for 3 minutes, and she wanted to scream. The second time, her heart stopped for 20 minutes, and Kirin wished to die.

: : :

Kirin loved her soulmate. She didn’t have to be a certain age to know that. She would love, and did love, the person fate told her was her other half.

“I love you.” Clair had said. “But I am not  _in_ love with you.”

And Kirin had to agree. Though her affections were genuine, they were not romantic. Kirin still wanted to kiss and cuddle and pleasure her, but she was not in love with her.

“I don’t think I can feel romantic attraction.” Clair had told her, thoughtfully. “But if I did, I think I would love you.”

Like that, went unspoken.

“I have never felt romantic attraction.” Kirin had replied. “I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t. She was lucky that she wasn’t destined to be with someone who expected her to feel something she didn’t.

They both were.

Perhaps fate wasn’t so cruel after all.


	21. 19:00 - Outdated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lone survivor in a post-apocalyptic scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Unnamed  
> Relationship(s): None   
> Warning(s): War mention, post-war scenario

The sun was setting, though it was barely noticeable. The wasteland was always dark, with the oppressive clouds from the War still lingering.

A lone survivor trudged through the debris. A heavy-duty gas mask entirely obscured their face, their breathing ragged from the long walk for water.

Barely anything above ground was habitable, much less clean to consume. The War was not supposed to be the end, yet it was for many innocent people.

This lone survivor was lucky. They had a basement built to withstand a previous war’s bombs, yet only now did it come in handy.

This lone survivor did not feel lucky. They were isolated, they missed other humans, their clothes had to be thick and heavy, their mask near blinding.

Everything was too hot. Outside, the remnants of trees burned from electrical fires, buildings scorched, bodies picked apart by vermin, and the small things that survived the initial blasts.

The lone survivor’s recovered weapon was a shotgun. It dragged against the ground, creating sparks when it scraped on a particularly hard piece of rock.

They wondered if it would even work after all the battering it received only from their walks. They dismissed the thought.

It hadn’t seen much use, anyway.

Their breath was strained as they approached a looming hill. They wondered briefly just how long they had until the radiation finally overtook them, but shook the thought away.

They began to climb the hill, and despite everything, their mind wandered from the wasteland around them.

Sometimes, the lone survivor dreamed. They dreamed of other people, of a setting sun that was bright against pure white clouds. They dreamed of a blue sky, of lush trees, of blooming flowers.

Clear water with fish with two eyes, with gentle creatures drinking from it, blissfully unaware of the horrors that the water would soon see.

But they always woke up in a grey hellscape.

They found the crest of the hill. The above building was crumbling and appeared to be just another structural casualty, but their life was carved underground in the darkness.

A sunray reflected against their mask. The lone survivor grimaced, blinking away the light. Being blinded was the last thing they needed.

That thought made them freeze and turn slowly. The clouds above the once bustling town were parting, and they couldn’t help but gasp.

Feeble rays of yellow snuck past the grey, illuminating the debris below them. Natural light was rare, and they leaned against their weapon in awe.

The lone survivor felt water hit their face. They wondered, briefly, if it was raining, but realized the droplets were tears.

They turned away from the light, forcefully. They were already pushing their luck being outside for so long, but they wanted to watch it forever.

They heaved open the trapdoor and carefully climbed down the ladder, shutting the door after them.

They passed the first floor, which held trinkets from years past, old watches and music players that needed repairing far too long ago to be of much use.

Below that was a less organized space. There were salvaged machinery that could spit out cold air, blankets that were whole enough to be useful, and the singular working clock in their home. It read 19:00 in faded green.

They stripped off the gas mask first. They methodically removed their gloves and outer jacket and pants. Underneath, they stood stoically in the jumpsuit. It was just as grey as the rest of the world, yet they knew what they saw. Color, light, the clouds parted.

They slowly brought a hand to their cheeks and wiped the tears away.


	22. 20:00 - Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witch makes friends with a werewolf. Fantasy creatures AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Calypso, Sylvia, Angie  
> Relationship(s): Angie & Sylvia mention, Angie & Calypso  
> Warning(s): None

The thing about being a witch was that people left her alone.

Calypso sincerely didn’t mind that. She preferred to live in solitude, which gave her the freedom to make potions, read ancient texts, and practice spells without interferences.

It was also better for them to have some fear her, in the long run. She had outlived generations of humans, had watched their civilizations build and fall and succumb to the wills of nature.

She hummed to herself and flipped the page in her book. She had reread the thing many times, but such fickle pieces of fiction were good distractions.

It was near midnight when a knock on her door interrupted her. Calypso frowned and stowed the book away.

She hovered out of the chair and to the door. A glance outside told her it was a human, so she set her feet on the ground, though they were merely props by now. “State your business.”

“I am searching for a remedy.” The voice on the other side replied. There were no lies in those words, and the witch shrugged and opened the door.

The woman was clearly wealthy, and not from the little town near her cottage. “May I have a name?” Calypso asked as casually as possible.

The woman raised a brow. “You may call me Sylvia.”

Calypso laughed and opened the door wider. “Very well, Sylvia, come inside and tell me your predicament. Although, I do ask for repayment.”

Sylvia waved a hand and gracefully stepped over the threshold. “Of course, I’m not concerned about that.”

Calypso shut the door and had to remember to walk instead of float. Her legs failed her awhile ago, but with a constant spell to keep her upright, it was no issue. “What is it you need?”

“A wolfsbane potion.”

Calypso raised a brow and drifted thoughtfully to her cabinet. “For a friend?”

“Something like that.”

Wolfsbane potions were difficult to create, especially if the user didn’t understand what each ingredient did to the potion. Regardless of how much or little of any of the ingredients, it wasn’t a cure.

Cheap wolfsbane rarely did more than ease transformation. Her potions, though, could do a variety of things. She had ones that worked instantly, or very nearly, but were expensive to brew and most likely tasted awful. She had others that gave complete clarity to the drinker, but had to be taken every night for a week before the full moon.

Regardless of what type, though, it would be expensive. Calypso frowned at her dwindling supplies of ingredients.

Calypso plucked a full bottle of instant wolfsbane off the shelf and showed it to Sylvia. “I’m guessing you want this for tonight?”

The other woman nodded. “Usually my friend is more prepared than this. But I’ve heard from sources that your potions are far more fast acting than the regular.”

Perks of being centuries old. “Yes, it will need to be drunk within an hour, but it will act as any other.”

Sylvia reached out to take it, but before her fingers wrapped around the bottle, she paused. “What am I paying for this?”

“Money. Gold, specifically, 25 pieces. I’m sure you know these ingredients are expensive.”

The blonde didn’t flinch, merely reached into her pack and produced the money. “Perfect. If this works as you said, I will be back.”

Calypso casted a silent spell to count the coins, and after confirming that there were, indeed, 25, let the potion go.

: : :

The night continued without a reported werewolf incident in their general vicinity. Calypso considered that a success, though who knew how far Sylvia had to travel. As the month marched on, and flipped to the next, she often wondered about that woman.

First of all, it was rare for someone so rich to seek her out. Calypso wasn’t as well known as other witches in the land, nor did she want to be. Secondly, the rich rarely associated with werewolves, much less befriend one enough to fetch a Wolfsbane for them.

Wolfsbane as good as hers could easily go for more than she asked. Even ones weaker, sold on the black market, could easily go for 50, if not more.

So the werewolf and the rich lady (she also wondered what her status was, nobility?) most likely had an agreement, or were friends before the werewolf turned. Because if a werewolf needed a Wolfsbane, then they were likely not born with it.

People born as a werewolf had a greater degree of control over their transformations, and some older ones could transform at will, with enough practice and skill.

Calypso stirred the brew in front of her thoughtfully. Sylvia’s visit had been almost a month ago. She wondered if she’d visit again.

: : :

A knock at her door had Calypso glancing up. She hovered over to the door and said, “State your business.” Like any other day.

“I’m looking for a wolfsbane potion.”

She raised a brow. She didn’t recognize the voice, and a little part of her was miffed that Sylvia hadn’t returned. She opened the door.

A brunette woman stood at her entrance. “My name is Angie. I think you’ve met my friend, Sylvia?”

Ah, so this was the werewolf. She looked remarkably well ordered for one. “Yes, I do believe so.” She stepped back and allowed Angie to step inside. “The same kind?”

The woman did not reply immediately. She took her time to look around the room, undoubtedly sniffing the contents to check for anything interesting. “Yes,” she finally said. “Same price?”

Calypso hummed in response, swooping over to her cabinet and grabbing the potion. They exchanged goods and Angie disappeared into the forest.

: : :

The next month seemed to drag on. Calypso was so curious about this werewolf. Something about her felt familiar somehow.

A knock came at her door, a day before the full moon. The witch perked up and said, as always, “State your business.”

“Angie, here for a wolfsbane potion.”

She opened the door. “Of course.”

That time they exchanged pleasantries, but a burning curiosity kept Calypso up at night.

: : :

The next full moon, Angie came during the afternoon. They talked, and while Calypso would have normally disliked having company for so long, it felt good to talk to someone like Angie.

“They call you a witch.”

Calypso had to laugh. “Do they now? Do they also say I have old wrinkled skin and warts on my nose? Or that I steal babies and replace them with demons?”

The werewolf laughed, almost sheepish. “Yes, actually.”

“They’re right about one of those things.” The witch supplied helpfully.

Angie clutched her heart in mock surprise. “My baby is a demon?”

She snorted. “Yes, that is the truth in that sea of lies. Because me brewing potions, making underhanded deals, and casting spells definitely doesn’t scream witch.”

The other woman laughed, leaning against one of the chairs. “I’m so surprised, believe me.”

She missed this. Maybe they both did.


	23. 21:00 - Mourned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentina reflects on a friendship lost. Italics are flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Valentina, Sasha  
> Relationship(s): Sasha & Valentina  
> Warning(s): Grief, memory loss, past child abuse mention

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”

Valentina thought that finding out Sasha was in a car accident was the worst thing she could have heard. She had felt guilt and helplessness and fear and anxiety, but nothing could’ve prepared her for this.

She opened her mouth but closed it on further consideration. Words felt bitter in her mouth. “We were friends.”

Sasha looked at her with mistrust and fear, and it felt like she ran a blade through her heart. “Were we?”

She nodded, sitting down slowly. “We met when you moved next door.”

: : :

_Valentina looked up at the loud noises coming from outside. Her parents looked to the windows curiously and got up to investigate._

_Then, Mother said, “We’re getting new neighbors.”_

_Valentina hoped there was a kid. She voiced that thought._

_“It looks like there is, sweetie,” Father assured her. “A girl, maybe even your age.”_

_“Can I play with her?” Valentina asked, hopefully. She never had a sibling, at least none that she remembered._

_Her parents glanced at each other and nodded. “It’s fine with me. Maybe we should greet them?” Loki asked._

_Mother nodded. “We’ll introduce ourselves later. They’re probably busy unpacking.”_

: : :

Sasha tilted her head when she stopped speaking. “We were childhood friends?”

Valentina nodded in confirmation. “We went to the same school for grade school and later middle school.

Her friend, no, the shell of her friend, was silent. Sasha was never quiet when they were younger, always the bolder of the two. Regardless of their differences, they were attached at the hip.

“When did I get purple hair?” She asked suddenly. Automatically Valentina glanced at the mentioned locks.

Her roots were beginning to show.

: : :

_“I want to get my hair dyed.”_

_Valentina nearly dropped her sandwich. “What?” She asked, confused. “That’s against school policy!”_

_Sasha grinned mischievously. “What are they gonna do, make me shave my head? It’s a stupid rule anyway.”_

_“They very much could.” She replied. “Besides, would your parents agree?”_

_Sasha flicked her wrist. “Of course, they agree to anything I ask for anyway.”_

_“Only Father does that for me,” Valentina sighed wistfully._

: : :

“Did I get my hair dyed then?” Sasha asked after Valentina stopped.

She nodded. “You did. The school admins were furious, but had to let you keep it.”

A small smile passed across her lips. “I was rebellious, then.”

“Very.”

She looked away, back to the window. “I wish I could remember what I did.”

: : :

_Valentina desperately wanted to stop. It was dangerous, it said so on the sign._

_Sure, she was accustomed to danger, but growing up in a not so ideal household taught her that unnecessary risks should be avoided. And she certainly didn’t have a reason to sneak into someone’s backyard and spray paint the side of their house._

_“Sasha, stop.” She hissed._

_Her friend merely quirked a brow. Her hood was dark and thrown over her head to mask the purple. “We’re already this far, might as well.”_

_“This is ridiculous.” She whispered. “Someone could catch us!”_

_Sasha grinned widely. “That’s the point. Besides, you won’t get in trouble.”_

_She wrung her hands nervously. “My parents will be furious.”_

_At that, Sasha’s expression softened slightly. “But they won’t hit you.”_

_Valentina worked her jaw. “I know. It’s just very,” she paused. She left that abusive household six years ago, was that considered new? “Hard to forget.” She finished lamely._

_By that time, Sasha was already on the other side of the fence. “You don’t have to come. Just be my lookout?”_

_She agreed to that._

: : :

She didn’t tell that story to Sasha. In small ways, Sasha was rebellious, like breaking the dress code just barely (or entirely). Other times, she was showy in her rebellion, like breaking into private property to graffiti a rich person’s house.

She didn’t get caught that specific time, but she had gotten caught in the past. That never seemed to deter her from trying again and again.

Valentina sighed. The coffee in her cup had long gotten cold, but she didn’t bother getting up. Not yet, at least.

Sasha was getting another surgery to fix an internal injury. She waited by her side until it was time for her to go under, and then Sasha’s life, their memories, were in the hands of the doctors.

In the hands of the doctors and herself. She missed her friend so badly, even if now she was awake and moving.

Because they were friends through shared pain and memories, and what were they now? Strangers.

 _I don’t know who you are._ Of course she didn’t. Those words were almost as painful to hear as a flatlining machine. She wondered briefly if Sasha would’ve been better off-

She banished those thoughts quickly.

The doctors were hopeful Sasha could make a full recovery, physically and mentally. The coma she was in wasn’t long, and there were low chances of death, considering the circumstances.

She sighed to herself. This person that she knew was gone, at least for the time being. It was almost like she was dead already or maybe locked inside her body.

She allowed herself a second to grieve the emptiness she felt at the loss of her closest friend.


	24. 22:00 - Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddle for warmth trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Kirin, Serena, Rita  
> Relationship(s): Kirin & Serena  
> Warning(s): Minor character death, frostbite

Kirin shivered against the biting wind. Her mission wound up being in Canada during the winter. And of course, post-mission, her team would get stuck in a snowstorm.

Serena Pate and Trey Riley were the agents with her, Alfie Benson having gotten separated during the mission.

Kirin wondered if he was dead. She wondered, further, if that would have been merciful. The wind nearly pushed her over as she surged forward. Her steps were clumsy and uneven, but she was moving, and that was all that mattered.

Near her, Trey fell into the snow. Her instinct was to approach and check on him, but Serena’s voice stopped her.

“Kirin, come here.” Her words were sloppy from the cold.

Kirin obeyed and trudged forward. They were approaching a small thicket of pine trees, and she couldn’t think, for the life of her, why.

Serena glanced at her. Kirin saw how her eyes hardened when they jumped to Trey’s motionless body. “What about him?” Kirin asked. Her voice was nearly nonexistent, and she worried that Serena had missed it.

“He won’t make it.” She huffed out. She wasn’t shaking, but that wasn’t necessarily a good sign. Serena collapsed under a large tree, with branches that reached out and created a barrier of sorts against the elements.

Kirin followed. “We can’t try?”

“Then we won’t make it either.” She huddled against the tree trunk. “Come here.”

She didn’t know precisely where, considering how little space there was, but she inched closer to her mentor.

Serena huffed and dragged her closer. Her grip wasn’t firm, and more of a guiding hand for Kirin as she fell against her chest.

She damn near purred as their bodies tangled together in a desperate attempt to keep warm. It wasn’t romantic, far from it, but Kirin would’ve kissed her if their lips weren’t frozen blue.

The snow was still piled around them, and they were both soaking wet and both certainly too cold for it to be healthy, but the only thought that mattered was that they were going to be okay. Kirin could hear a steady thumping against her ear as they pressed closer together.

Them, Serena and her, would survive this - that she was sure of.

: : :

Kirin woke up to warmth. The lights dimmed above her, but she still squinted like she was blind.

She took a moment to glance at herself. A soft, fluffy blanket lay on top of her. Kirin felt what might be a sweater, with a hoodie pulled over it, sweatpants on her legs, and thick, wool socks over her feet.

Kirin glanced around the room and spotted Serena in what might have been a similar state.

“Serena,” she hissed, trying to wiggle out from under the blanket. “Serena, where are we?”

The other woman didn’t stir. Kirin glanced at her jacket and noticed, with a start, that it was STARS issued.

“Oh, you’re awake.” A feminine voice interrupted her thoughts. Kirin’s head snapped towards the person.

“Who are you?” She asked with suspicion. “And how did you find us?”

The woman set down a tray that appeared to have a tea set on it. She fished around her jacket pocket before pulling out a familiar card. “My name is Rita Odom, Elemental Air scout agent.”

That would explain the STARS issued jacket.

Rita continued. “I was sent by my handler to retrieve you, Pate, and Riley.”

“How is he?”

A pause. “I performed CPR on him and have tried to warm him up. You and Pate were in a better position, but he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

Rita looked sympathetic but didn’t let her dwell on the thought for long. “Drink some tea.”

“What time is it?” Kirin reluctantly picked up one of the cups and had to withhold a sigh at the warmth.

Rita glanced at her wrist. “2200. You’ll be evacuated tomorrow, in the morning, but for now, you need to rest.”

They fell silent after that. Rita delivered food and left with a reassurance to call for her help when needed. Eventually, Serena woke up, and Kirin tried her best to answer her questions as Rita did.

“Any signs of Benson?” Serena asked around a cup of tea. She was sitting up with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

“None that Rita mentioned.” Kirin replied. “But if Trey didn’t make it, I’m not very confident he did.”

Serena hummed in response and took another sip of tea. They both glanced outside the little window overlooking Rita’s temporary property.

It was dark out, but unlike that morning, the skies were clear enough to see the stars.


	25. 23:00 - Endless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie and Calypso fake date to annoy Angie's relatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character(s): Calypso, Angie, Angie’s relatives  
> Relationship(s): Angie/Calypso  
> Warning(s): None

“God, I can’t believe this.”

Calypso glanced up. “What?”

Angie gestured to her computer screen. There was an email open, and Calypso could only catch snippets of the contents. Something about an invitation? “My mom emailed me today. Said my brother was getting married and that I should ‘really get out and find myself a nice man to do the same.’”

She spoke the end of her sentence with an obnoxious, high pitched voice. Calypso snorted and set down her tablet. “Is that so?”

“Apparently still being single at 33 is a big issue for them.”

Calypso raised a brow. “Are they not aware of how you spent your 20’s?” Fighting for faceless billionaires who didn’t want a single penny to drop out from their pocket. In other words, over oil in the Middle East.

“Apparently that’s not an excuse.” Angie grumbled, turning away from the computer. “I was supposed to find someone in the military to settle down with.”

“Instead you got stuck with me.” Calypso joked. “Is declining an option?”

“No can do.” She replied grimly. “They’re hellbent on getting me over there. If I don’t go, they’ll send someone to New York to fetch me.”

“Lovely.” Calypso replied. “Do you have someone in mind for you to go with?”

The other woman was silent for a minute. “Yes, but it’ll piss them off.”

Calypso leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me about them.”

: : :

“Are you sure you wanna go?” Angie asked anxiously.

Calypso refrained from rolling her eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “Even if I wasn’t, it is a little late now, don’t you think?”

Here they were, about to fly halfway across the country, and Angie was still checking in with her. “I mean,” she took a grounding breath. “My family just, really doesn’t like people who are different.”

She raised a brow, “So you have said. Isn’t the point of this to make them uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Calypso patted Angie gently on the shoulder. The muscles tensed for a brief second, before relaxing. “I know. I would not have agreed if I wasn’t sure.”

: : :

“Ah! Angelica, it’s so nice to see you!” The voice of her friend’s aunt was shrill, and Calypso had to hold back a wince.

Angie pursed her lips. “Aunt Karen, hi. It’s Angie now.”

The other woman hugged her tightly, ignoring how Angie tensed at the sudden contact. “Nonsense my little angel,” she let go and looked surprised, if only for a moment. “And who is this?”

Calypso glanced at Angie and smiled as she reached forward to shake Karen’s hand. Karen tried not to stare at her chair but failed miserably. “My name is Calypso, I am Angie’s girlfriend.”

The woman laughed nervously. “I’m so glad you’ve made such a close friend, Angelica.”

Angie rolled her eyes and leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Anyway, Karen, stop staring. It’s rude, ya know.”

Now it was Karen’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I, well, your mother-“

“Your sister said I should have a date.” Angie replied casually, picking at her nails. She wiggled her fingers innocently. “Thank her for allowing me to bring my girlfriend.”

The woman didn’t know how to reply and mumbled a lame excuse to slip away.

She was barely out of earshot when Calypso asked, “Was that everything you wanted?”

Angie grinned widely. “Absolutely.”

: : :

“Your mother is going to be so angry when she learns we missed the vows.” Calypso mentioned, a few days later.

They were strolling downtown, Angie allowing Calypso to lead. They had participated in whatever pre-wedding escapades her family had wanted, but elected to miss the ceremony. “Good. Let them know that we’re not here for them.”

Calypso hummed and pushed herself forward. “Burning all the bridges?”

She nodded decisively. “Exactly. They have to know if they don’t make an effort for me, I won’t make an effort for them.”

: : :

Angie knew her well enough to know precisely how Calypso got herself to sleep. She was brushing her teeth while Calypso took her meds, then they switched.

“We don’t have to sleep in the same bed, ya know.” Angie said while waiting for Calypso to finish.

“There’s only one bed.” She reminded her. “And also they’re looking for any excuse for us to not be together.”

“Maximum impact.” Angie replied carefully. She slid under the blankets on one side. “I hope I’m not keeping you up.”

Calypso wheeled herself out of the bathroom. She grimaced when her shoulder bumped into the door frame. “You know you are not the one who plagues my sleep.”

: : :

Calypso stared listlessly at the ceiling. Although they turned off the lights around 2000, she was still awake three hours later.

She struggled with sleep already, in her bed with the optimized environment for her. But this bed was too stiff, and the pillow was thin and unsupportive against her back.

She glanced at her bed partner. Angie was seemingly dead asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

She couldn’t believe that this insane plan to finish this chapter in Angie’s life worked so well. She was also surprised that it was so much fun.

Her parents were supportive, if a little distant. They supported her decision to join the military and further helped her after her paralysis. She had no siblings, her parents didn’t have siblings, and her grandparents died before she was born.

In other words, she could not imagine destroying what little family connections she had. But it made sense that Angie didn’t mourn the loss of her familial relationships.

Calypso couldn’t say she hated the kisses they exchanged. The first time was a little startling, but all the following felt natural.

She and Angie were undeniably friends, with no indication of attraction on either side, but Calypso found that she would be okay with it. Right now, her affections were false, an image to achieve a goal.

But Angie was kind and helpful and oh so broken like her.

Whoever Angie gave her heart to, they would be lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading if you got this far! It's all experimental writing, please be kind!


End file.
